


Fallen

by Mondhase



Category: Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 90,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mondhase/pseuds/Mondhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While still at war with the kingdom of Temra, the Mystic Knights must face the devastating loss of a friend and the rise of a deadly new enemy. And with the perfect weapon to finally destroy Kells at her hands, Maeve is about to take the island for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brothers in Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Over the years I’ve written so many Mystic Knights stories in my head, but this is the first I ever managed to write down enough to start and publish it. As usual, nothing of Mystic Knights belongs to me, I’m not making any money with this, bla bla bla, you know the drill…
> 
> But honestly, the rights can’t be that expensive. We should put all our money together, buy them and revive the show! I want a second season!!!

It was a beautiful warm day in the Kingdom of Kells. Maeve’s troops had not attacked in weeks and the lives of the people were peaceful, even if only for a while. King Conchobar’s soldiers could not afford to rest, however, and so they trained in the courtyard every day, the Mystic Knights often accompanying them.

Sometimes Rohan tried to improve the soldiers’ fighting skills or taught the royal guards a few new tricks, but today Angus had challenged him to a duel. He always enjoyed their little matches and didn’t mind that Angus actually won every now and then when it was just the two of them, but since Ivar and especially Deirdre were watching, he would make sure that his reputation as the mighty warrior Draganta stayed intact.

The two Mystic Knights circled each other, waiting for an opportunity to attack. Rohan was completely focused, but as always Angus kept taunting him, trying to distract his opponent.

“Today’s the day, Rohan, I know it. I’ll catch you completely by surprise and then you’ll cry like a baby. I’m just wondering what the princess will say when I defeat you in front of her.”

“Oh, I’m afraid, you’ll never find out,” Rohan replied, clashing his sword with Angus’. They traded blows, both trying to get the better of each other, but so far their match was even.

Angus blocked one of Rohan’s attacks and answered with a swift counterattack, but the blond man dodged in time to give him a shove forward, nearly sending his friend crashing into a wall. However, countless encounters with the castle guards throughout his entire life had made the former thief both tough and fast, so he turned back to Rohan and continued the fight without giving an inch.

Metal clashed against metal as the Mystic Knights took their duel onto the next level, fighting with nearly the same ferocity they would show a real enemy. The longer the battle went on, however, the more it became obvious that Rohan was the physically stronger one of them.

As he put more and more force into his blows, his best friend kept backing away and soon found himself against the wall. Angus refused to give up, though, and when Rohan’s blade met his again, he put all his energy into not only blocking the attack, but pushing the sword to the side. Seizing the opportunity, he subsequently knocked himself into Rohan, forcing the sword completely out of his hand and sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.

Deirdre yelped in surprise as the two men crashed down in front of her and it was clear that she thought this sparring match had gone far enough.

“Guys! Stop it! I really don’t care anymore who wins this, I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” But Ivar simply pulled her aside, giving the two friends more room for their competition. He shook his head while laughing slightly.

“I’m afraid nothing can stop them until this is settled. Believe me, it’ll be best if we just let them finish, and we don’t want to upset the audience, right?”

The princess looked at him, confused, but the Mystic Knight of Water just nodded into the direction of the soldiers who had been practicing in the courtyard as well. All of them had abandoned their training and were now watching the fight of the two knights, some of them supporting Angus, but most of them calling repeatedly for Rohan to win. Deirdre shook her head, giving up.

“Men,” she sighed loudly, before she, too, redirected her attention back to her fighting friends.

Still on the ground, Angus had tackled Rohan and had pinned him beneath himself for a moment, but the leader of the Mystic Knights was fighting hard to regain the upper hand. He pushed Angus off, but his challenger wouldn’t let go and so they rolled over the ground together, only coming to a halt when they crashed into a nearby table where a few spare swords and shields had been put, knocking everything down in the process.

Both knights reached for the nearest item and hurried back to their feet to face each other, but as they finally took a closer look at their acquisitions, Angus laughed triumphantly. He had taken one of the guards’ swords, while Rohan had accidentally reached for one of the wooden shields.

“Looks like I’ve got the advantage now,” the former thief proclaimed happily.

“Less talk, more fighting, please, or I might get the impression that your tongue is the only weapon you’ve got,” Rohan replied matter-of-factly, irritating his friend.

“As you wish, but don’t say later that I didn’t warn you.”

The Mystic Knight of Earth attacked and then everything went so fast that Angus later swore to Dagda that Rohan must have pulled some kind of magic trick on him. His sword connected with the wooden shield and Rohan copied his movement from before, forcing the weapon to the side. Then he moved forward and brought one of his legs behind Angus’, tripping his friend with only a little shove. When the dark haired man hit the ground, the sword flew from his hand and out of reach, giving Rohan just enough time to retrieve his own. He approached his fallen friend and put the tip of the blade a few inches above his chest, finally claiming his victory.

“You give up?” Rohan’s voice was steady, but also clearly conveyed his concern. He had never had such a fierce battle with his best friend before and now he was unsure about how Angus would take his defeat. Also, if he was being honest, Rohan was exhausted and he just hoped that there wouldn’t be another attack. To his relief he found that Angus didn’t want to continue, either.

“For today. But believe me, I’ll try again,” he laughed while extending his hand for Rohan to help him up.

“Do that, my friend, I’ll be ready,” the Knight of Fire replied, as he helped Angus back to his feet. The second the two men were standing side by side again, hands still clasped tightly, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd of watching soldiers. Although it wasn’t just Rohan’s victory they were celebrating, but the great fight both of the Mystic Knights had delivered.

Ivar and Deirdre clearly shared the troops’ impression, as they now joined their team mates, looking excited. Any objection the princess might have had before against the duel seemed to have vanished as she now laid a hand on Angus’ shoulder happily.

“That was without a doubt one of the most impressive swordfights I’ve witnessed in my entire life. You’ll both give Temra’s soldiers a run for their money.”

Ivar wholeheartedly agreed.

“Yes. Several times I even thought you were winning, Angus. It was a very tight outcome and I’m glad you two usually fight on the same side.”

“So am I, Prince Ivar.” The loud voice of the king suddenly sounded over the courtyard, causing the soldiers to bow to their ruler and the Mystic Knights to stand up straighter as Conchobar approached their group.

“My King, we weren’t aware that you were watching our fight,” Rohan replied hurriedly. “Angus and I were just engaging in some little… friendly competition to stay alert until Maeve’s next move.”

King Conchobar laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“If that was what you call ‘friendly competition’, I truly don’t envy the next enemy you two encounter. But just as my soldiers and your fellow knights, I am deeply impressed and relieved to find Kells’ safety in such competent hands.” He nodded to both Rohan and Angus and then went on to return into the castle.

“Continue with your training and I won’t fear whatever Maeve has still in store for us.”

After the king and his personal guards had left, the Mystic Knights relaxed again. As the soldiers around them returned to their normal practice, the four young warriors looked at each other, all of them momentarily silent as Conchobar’s words sunk in. As usual, it was Angus who first broke the quiet.

“Wow, that was definitely the biggest praise I’ve ever received. I must remember this, and the next time I get myself into trouble I’ll just remind the king of my competent hands. He can’t say anything against that.”

The other three knights burst out into laughter at his words, and Ivar rested a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he just meant Rohan, my friend. After all, he won, or did you already forget that?”

Considering how much she always enjoyed teasing Angus, Deirdre was more than happy to back Ivar up.

“As a former thief, we all know your hands are pretty quick, but I clearly wouldn’t go as far as calling them ‘competent’. My father was most certainly talking to Draganta.”

As usual, Angus was already falling for their bait and replied in an aggravated tone.

“Just wait, Princess. The next time I’ll use my competent hands on you and then we’ll see who he was talking to.”

Deirdre blinked and blushed slightly, and for a fleeting second she looked at Angus, confused, unsure of what exactly he was talking about. As the Mystic Knight of Earth realised his precise words, though, he immediately turned away from her, looking very uncomfortable, and spared the princess any further talk on the subject.

Rohan and Ivar looked at each other, both aware of the awkward moment, but before one of them had the chance to say anything, a soldier of Kells came running through the open castle gates, looking completely exhausted. Upon seeing the Mystic Knights, he approached them quickly, trying to catch his breath.

“Princess Deirdre! A large troop of Temra soldiers is approaching the castle and the four Sentinels are with them. They were moving along the western shore to make sure we wouldn’t notice them until it was too late, but luckily a patrol caught sight of them. My men are fighting them as we speak, but I fear they’ll only manage to slow them down.”

The soldier had rushed his explanation and now nearly collapsed into the princess’ arms, had Rohan not caught him in time. He helped the man over to a nearby bench and called for someone to get some water. The Mystic Knights watched as the warrior downed the liquid greedily.

When he was ready to speak again, Deirdre was the one who asked the next question.

“Where do we find them? We can’t allow Temra’s troops to reach the castle.”

“Go northwest from here. They’ve already moved far into Kells, but you should be able to find them either still at the shore or coming from there.”

Rohan nodded and thanked the soldier for bringing the news as fast as he could. Then he turned to the others.

“Looks like we’ve got some unexpected guests, so maybe we should go and welcome them properly.”

“Yeah, but since they’re uninvited, we should probably just show them the way right back to Temra.” Angus suggested grimly.

“Maybe they got lost? But I bet we can give them a push in the right direction,” Ivar added, more than ready for another encounter with the Sea Serpent.

“What are we waiting for then?” Deirdre asked, looking eager for a chance to prove her own fighting skills, after the praise Rohan and Angus had received from her father. “For Kells!”

“For Kells!” The others agreed and got ready to leave at once.

  

**To be continued…**


	2. Rock Bottom

The Mystic Knights had taken the king’s fastest horses to encounter the Temras as far away from the castle as possible so no local villagers would get caught in the battle. Following the soldier’s instructions, they had gone straight northwest and it wasn’t long before they saw the enemy’s colours near the rough cliffs of the western shore.

“We should first _persuade_ Maeve’s troops to turn back, then we can concentrate on the Sentinels. They might put up a little more fight than the soldiers,” Rohan suggested.

“Just leave them to me and Ivar. We’ll send them back to Temra, crying for their mummies,” Angus replied mischievously. The princess raised an eyebrow.

“What is it with you wanting to make people cry today? First Rohan and now Maeve’s soldiers. Is that a new hobby of yours?” The former thief shrugged, grinning at her.

“What can I say, I’m a perfectionist. I won’t stop until I succeed at least once today.”

Unsure if this was just Angus’ strange humour or if he was really being serious, Deirdre decided to drop the subject.

“You’ll do that, then. In the meantime, Rohan and I will keep the four Sentinels busy.”

They left the horses in the cover of the woods they were still in and approached their enemies on foot. In a normal battle, fighting from horseback could be a big advantage, but it made using the mystical weapons very difficult, especially when they were wearing their armour, so the knights preferred to stay with both feet on the ground instead.

“Now look who’s there! Four mystical maggots, who want to try to stop us,” the Ice Lord of Temra sneered loudly as the knights left their cover, their weapons drawn, and moved towards the position of the dark purple clad troops.

“Mystical maggots? That sounds actually rather clever. Did you make that up right now or did Maeve help you with it? Because I really can’t imagine you or any of your friends coming up with it.” Deirdre taunted the hostile warrior, receiving a chuckle from the other fighters of Kells.

“Laugh as long as you can, Knights, but you won’t be as lucky anymore as you were the last times we met.”

Upon hearing these words, Rohan turned to Deirdre, confusion clearly evident on his face.

“I didn’t know luck was the reason we’ve beaten them again and again and again… and again. Why did nobody tell me?” Playing along, the princess kept her voice and expression completely serious as she answered.

“Because that is evidently such a well kept secret, that only our enemies themselves know about it. I’ve, too, been under the impression that we have won all those times, because they are simply no match for us.”

“Enough!” the Lightning Bat of Temra screeched loudly at this point and threw his boomerang at Deirdre, but the young woman dodged it easily.

“Looks like we’ve got their attention. Let’s call our armours,” she whispered to Rohan, highly satisfied with their little distraction.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rohan agreed. “Fire within me!”

“Air above me!” The two Mystic Knights summoned their armour and immediately attacked the four Sentinels of Temra. The soldiers, who had so far been completely ignored, watched the ongoing battle with a mixture of confusion and relief.

“Looks like they’ve completely forgotten about us,” one of them exclaimed absentmindedly. He seemed more than happy not having to face either the warrior Draganta or the princess of Kells. But his expression changed quickly, as Angus’ voice suddenly caught his attention.

“Well, and it looks like _you_ have completely forgotten about _us_. Maybe a little shake will keep you more alert.” He raised his mace and then knocked it on the ground forcefully, causing the earth underneath the Temra soldiers to quake so most of them tumbled to the ground. The ones still standing looked relieved for a second, but then Ivar pointed his trident at them.

“I think they are still not paying enough attention. But a little ‘zap’ will probably remind them that it’s time to leave.” Blue electricity shot from his weapon and knocked the remaining soldiers to the ground. However, they didn’t need long to get back up, turn and run in the other direction without giving the battle or their mission another thought.

“And stay out!” Angus shouted after them, feeling very elated after the easy victory. But he quickly reminded himself that the real battle still lay ahead of him and Ivar. Rohan and Deirdre, who were each fighting two Sentinels at a time right now, would surely be very appreciative of the fast support from their friends. So the Mystic Knights of Earth and Water quickly moved to call their armour and join the fight.

“Earth beneath me!”

“Water around me!” The two shouted and swiftly attacked their usual opponents. Ivar shot crackling electricity at the Sea Serpent, drawing its attention away from Deirdre, while Angus flung a magical boulder at the Rock Wolf of Temra, causing him to leave Rohan to the Ice Lord.

A fierce battle between the Mystic Knights and the Sentinels ensued, that had each of the fighters highly concentrated. Angus wanted to use the earthquake power of his mace against his enemy, but cursed slightly as he realised he couldn’t do that since they were now fighting closer to the cliff. The whole area would surely become unstable and with his friends in close proximity that just wasn’t an option.

So he confined himself to attacking with the mace itself or by throwing magical rocks with it. Landing a particularly well aimed hit to the side of the head of the Rock Wolf, he momentarily sent his enemy to the ground, stunned. Angus used the opportunity to see how his friends were doing.

Still fighting the Sea Serpent with his trident, Ivar was a few meters in front of him, slowly taking the upper hand in the battle. The Temra fighter was backing away from the foreign prince and away from the cliff as if he was already planning his escape.

Deirdre was busy at the moment, dodging the attacks of the Lightning Bat who was throwing his boomerang at her again and again. The bat-shaped weapon returned to his hand after every throw, like a faithful dog, but kept missing the princess just as repeatedly. So while she wasn’t winning the battle yet, Deirdre was still holding herself alright.

Finally looking over to Rohan, Angus was glad to see that he, too, was doing well. He was trading blows with the Ice Lord of Temra and although the white-faced warrior’s weapon was smaller and more manoeuvrable, Rohan wielded the sword of Kells with the same speed and flexibility as his opponent. However, a loose rock on the ground suddenly threatened to shift the balance towards the Temra fighter, as the leader of the Mystic Knights accidentally tripped on it. He lost his footing and stumbled backwards, giving his enemy the perfect opportunity to strike a heavy if not fatal blow.

The Ice Lord was about to seize his chance and was already swinging his blade as a massive boulder hit him in the back, taking him by surprise. The projectile knocked him forward a few feet and completely undid the advantage he had just had over the Mystic Knight of Fire.

Angus laughed at the startled grunt of his target, his mace still raised, and then nodded to Rohan, who had found his balance again and immediately resumed his fight with the Ice Lord of Temra, after nodding back to his friend.

The whole thing hadn’t taken longer than a few seconds, but it had distracted Angus, so when a sudden movement beside him caught his attention, he didn’t move fast enough to completely block the iron claw of the Rock Wolf as it slashed down on him. The metal tore through the weakest part of his armour, the black fabric at the neck, drawing blood.

The former thief cried out as the pain ran through his body and hurried to cover the wound with his hand, but since he was wearing the heavy gloves of his mystic armour, he couldn’t even tell how much damage had been done. However, he didn’t have time to concentrate on it anyway, because the Temra fighter quickly attacked him again, eager to seize his opportunity, now that his enemy was wounded.

A series of fast blows rained down on him and Angus had increasingly more trouble to ward them off as the fight continued. He noticed that they were getting dangerously close to the rough edge of the cliff and tried to move to the side to avoid it, but the Rock Wolf was effectively blocking his path.

The Mystic Knight of Earth felt that his strength was weakening, his movements slowing down as the blood continued to flow from the wound on his neck, and he started to realise that he might actually lose this fight. But he also knew that he only had to hold out long enough until his friends would come to help him. So he gathered his remaining energy, feinted to move to the left and then charged to his right, swinging his mace at the Sentinel.

The hostile warrior was taken off guard by the surprisingly fast attack and only barely managed to raise his metal claw to parry the blow. In an unfortunate coincidence, the connection of both movements caused Angus’ mace to get caught between the solid claws of the Rock Wolf, rendering both fighters momentarily unable to attack.

They grabbed onto each other, shoved and pulled, both trying to get free, while unconsciously moving so the Temra fighter was now with his back towards the cliff and only about two feet away from it. Angus saw his chance. He pushed the Rock Wolf hard, while pulling his weapon upwards at the same time, effectively freeing it and sending his enemy stumbling backwards.

Accelerated by the forceful pull, the mace flew from Angus’ hand and landed on the ground somewhere behind him, but he didn’t pay any attention to it, as his apparent victory suddenly turned against him in a split second.

The Rock Wolf of Temra, who had been staggering backwards, his arms flailing, right towards the steep cliff, had somehow managed to get a hold of Angus’ armour, and was now pulling the Mystic Knight down with him. Angus tried to knock his hand off, but it was already too late. He had lost his footing and was tumbling over the edge, alongside his enemy.

The fall seemed to last forever and while Angus thought he’d heard his name being shouted from above, the roaring waves beneath him already welcomed him with their dark and cold embrace, drowning out the rest of the world.

 

**To be continued…**


	3. Going Under

Rohan’s mind was blank. He couldn’t just have seen this. Angus, who had only about a minute ago saved him from the Ice Lord’s attack, ignoring his own defence in doing so, couldn’t just have fallen over the cliff, presumably right to his death. He shouted his friend’s name, but it was no use; the Mystic Knight of Earth was gone, sharing the fate of the Rock Wolf, who had been able to drag his enemy down with him with his last action.

For one seemingly endless moment everyone in the area had stopped moving, their eyes glued to the edge of the cliff where their companions had vanished not more than a second ago. And in this time, only the period of a few heartbeats, Rohan was sure that he would never be able to move or even breathe again.

All too soon, however, the battle continued, forcing him out of his stupor.

“Rohan, watch out!” Deirdre screamed at him and to his own surprise, Rohan was able to pull himself together long enough to ward off another attack from the Ice Lord of Temra. The leader of the four Sentinels didn’t seem to care that he, too, had just lost one of his men. Quite the opposite, actually, as he now started to taunt his opponent.

“Looks like your friend decided to leave early today. What a shame, really. I would have preferred that all the Mystic Knights see how I defeat the mighty warrior Draganta. But I guess he couldn’t bear to watch you lose, so he rather threw himself off a cliff instead.” The Ice Lord’s cold laughter was only fuelled by Rohan’s furious cry of rage, but apparently he hadn’t taken into account the effect that the loss of his friend would have on the leader of the Mystic Knights, as he seemed more than surprised by Rohan’s next attack.

The warrior in the red and gold armour raised his sword and pointed it at his enemy, letting all his anger flow through the blade. The sword of Kells channelled Rohan’s emotions and the fire emitting from it was hotter than ever, burning the Ice Lord’s hands as he lifted them up for protection. The pale fighter roared in pain and seemed to come to the conclusion that one dead knight for the day was enough.

“We’ll see each other again, Mystic Knights. And then we’ll kill the rest of you, too!” That said, he and the remaining Sentinels vanished, leaving three completely horrified warriors behind.

They all rushed immediately to the edge of the cliff to look for their fallen friend, but the only thing beneath was the sea rushing against the solid rocks. No sign of Angus or the Rock Wolf or even any indication of where the two had vanished.

“Angus!” Rohan’s voice boomed through the air, but was drowned out by the roaring waves, before it could have reached anyone in the water. However, that didn’t stop the desperate young man from calling again and again.

“Angus! Angus!” After a few more tries, Deirdre laid a hand on his arm to get his attention.

“It’s no use. Even if he is still down there, he won’t hear you. I think there’s a small path leading closer to the water a little further north. Maybe we can see him from there.”

“Good. What are we waiting for, then?” Rohan had already gotten up and was moving along the cliff with the princess and Ivar close behind him. The two royal members of the Mystic Knights shared a pained look and it was clear that neither of them had high expectations of finding Angus alive or even at all.

The force of the waves was incredibly strong and even if he had survived this and the fall from the cliff itself, the current might have already pulled him out into the open sea. But they knew that Rohan would not rest until he had done everything in his powers to save his best friend, so they tried not to let their assumptions show.

And after all, they _had_ witnessed miracles before, so maybe it wasn’t time yet to give up hope.

They had reached the path now Deirdre had been talking about and although it wasn’t much more than a small hollow between the cliffs, the Mystic Knights didn’t hesitate any longer than it took them to make their armour vanish to start making their way down. They were much more manoeuvrable in their normal clothes and since there were no more enemies around, there was no reason to keep wearing the heavy armour.

The ground was littered with loose stones and the further they got to the water, the more slippery and dangerous got their decent. After a minute or two of hurrying down as carefully as they could, the path led them to a large stone formation reaching several meters into the sea, from which they had a good look at the surrounding waters.

Trying to ignore the salty spume splashing into their eyes, the three knights searched the sea for any sign of Angus and called his name repeatedly, but to no avail. They could make out the spot on the cliffs their friend had fallen from, but the Mystic Knight of Earth remained lost.

Rohan wiped his long hair out of his face and looked out onto the roaring waves frantically. He could not accept that Angus was gone, not like this. Taking one last look, he readied himself to jump into the icy waters, but Ivar held him back, looking at him incredulously.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I have to find him. He might still be somewhere down there.”

The foreign prince looked into the desperate eyes of his friend and sighed deeply. He wanted to find Angus, too, and it pained him to stop Rohan, but he also knew when there was no more hope left.

“Maybe, but most likely not. And without any sign of Angus it is suicide to jump into the breakers.” Rohan struggled against the hold of his friend, but Ivar had gripped his arm tightly and was not planning to let go.

“We have to do something, or Angus is…” The blond man broke off, not wanting to even think the worst, but the blue clad royal shook his head and looked at him sadly.

“I am so sorry, Rohan, but Angus is gone. And nobody would be served if you got yourself killed as well.”

“No! No, he’s not… he’s not… dead.” Just by saying these words, all of Rohan’s strength seemed to have left his body and the greatest fighter of Kells sunk to his knees, utterly defeated.

Ivar had let go of his arm and was watching his friend now helplessly, then proceeded to look out onto the rough sea, filled with grief. The roaring waves, which usually filled his heart with joy and the urge to feel the boards of a ship beneath his feet once more, would never be the same for him again. But as he was watching the ocean with rising aversion, Deirdre’s voice behind him suddenly startled him.

The princess had stayed in the background for the past few minutes, too consumed by her own sadness to support Rohan, but now an idea had crossed her mind and she wasn’t willing to give up hope just yet.

“What about Pyre?”

Ivar turned around to her, clearly confused.

“What about him?”

“We could use him to search the area. With his help we can cover much more ground, or rather water in this case, and even scan the surrounding beaches; see if Angus has been washed up somewhere.”

Rohan looked up at Deirdre and his eyes spoke volumes about how glad and thankful he was for her suggestion.

“At least it’s a chance. I’ll call him immediately.” He stood up and raised the sword of Kells into the sky, new determination filling his voice.

“Fire within me!” His armour appeared again and he reached for the Dragon’s Breath Dagger at once.

“Pyre, Dragon of Dare, I summon you!”

“We should go back up to the cliff; Pyre can’t land here to pick you up, Rohan,” Ivar suggested, his own rising optimism clearly evident in his voice. He tried to remind himself that the chances of finding Angus alive were still pretty bad, but a defiant hope was settling into his heart nevertheless.

They ran up the treacherous path as fast as they could and as soon as there were the first tufts of grass under their feet again, they already saw the mighty dragon Pyre approaching them from the horizon. He came closer at an impressive speed, even for a dragon, as if he could sense the importance and urgency of his mission, and landed on the ground next to Rohan.

His scaly wings folded at his side and served as a stirrup for the Mystic Knight to climb up onto his back, but before Pyre rose into the sky again, Rohan turned to his friends once more.

“I’ll find him!” he declared resolutely and Ivar nodded to him encouragingly.

“If he’s still out there, I’m sure you will.”

“Bring him back to us,” Deirdre added with tears in her eyes, not even trying to conceal them. Then she and Ivar backed away to give the dragon enough room to fly and watched in silence as the red and golden wings stretched out to their impressive span and lifted the creature and Rohan up into the air.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t the longest ride the Mystic Knight of Fire had ever taken on Pyre, but it had surely felt like it. After circling above the water beneath the cliffs for what seemed like forever, he had flown north, checking every beach and every bay he passed for any sign of Angus, but without finding anything. All he had seen were a few children from a Temra village, marvelling at the exciting sight of a dragon and a Mystic Knight, but he had paid them no heed and had continued his search, flying south this time.

Minutes had stretched on forever and had turned into hours while he hadn’t been able to admit to himself that it was futile to keep on searching. But now, as he was getting closer to the spot again where he had left Deirdre and Ivar behind, he just couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Angus was dead, he had to face it.

Tears started to well up in Rohan’s eyes and he felt like a part of him was dying, too, as he decided to stop the search and head back to his friends. Pyre made a low rumbling noise and Rohan stroked the neck of the powerful creature, taking it as a gesture of sympathy.

“You know what happened, right? That we’ve lost him?” The sound came again, slightly louder this time.

“Thank you, Pyre. I know you’ll miss him, too.” They kept going in silence and only a few minutes later Rohan could already make out the ill-fated cliffs in the distance.

His heart sunk as he recognised Deirdre, standing at the top and looking hopefully into the sky. He didn’t want to face her, didn’t want to see the same grief on her face that he felt inside himself, but he knew he had to at least deliver the dreadful news.

Pyre approached the cliffs, but instead of landing on top of them, like before, he hovered in the air in front of them, his massive wings pumping heavily to keep the height. Ivar had joined Deirdre near the edge and now they were both looking at Rohan expectantly.

The Mystic Knight of Fire returned the look of the princess. Their eyes met, but before he could even begin to find the right words, he saw realisation already dawn on her face. Her shoulders dropped and she averted her face, so she didn’t even see as Rohan shook his head sadly.

Hours between hope and fear finally took their toll and Deirdre began to sob heavily, tears streaming freely down her face, and it was Ivar who pulled her into a tight embrace, trying helplessly to soothe her pain.

Rohan looked down at the scene and found himself unable to stay. He uttered a silent “I’m sorry”, more to himself than anyone else, and got Pyre to rise up high into the sky again. The Dragon of Dare and his rider vanished behind the trees of the next hill, leaving a scene of utter desolation behind, but without being able to escape it.

 

* * *

 

“Wow! Do you see that? It’s a _dragon_!” A blond boy of about the age of ten called out to his friend who was a few feet ahead of him on their way to the rocky beach close to their village. The slightly smaller, brown haired boy lifted his head and looked up to see the impressive creature pass over them.

“Awesome! And I bet that’s one of those Mystic Knights riding on it.”

“Definitely. When I’m bigger, I wanna be one of them.” The blond boy had a huge grin on his face, but his friend looked very alarmed all of a sudden.

“Are you crazy, Finnean? They’re our enemies. If the soldiers ever catch you saying something like that, you’ll get yourself into a lot of trouble.” After hesitating a second, he added, “and me probably too, so shut up, will you?”

Finnean laughed, not sharing the cautious nature of his friend.

“I’m not stupid, you know? I just think that when we’re old enough to ride a dragon, the war’s gonna be over; one way or another.” He looked back up to see the red and golden creature circle over the beach a few times, and then fly off into the distance.

“Looks like he’s searching for something,” the blond boy mused quietly, his mind already filled with the countless adventures he would have on his own dragon. His companion, however, didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm for danger and looked around repeatedly, as if scared that some Temra troops could jump out of thin air any second.

“I don’t care what he’s doing as long as he doesn’t draw any soldiers here. They’d probably find my secret and then I could never go there again.”

Finnean turned back to his friend, any future adventures immediately forgotten at the prospect of one directly in front of him.

“Yeah, right, that secret you wanted to show me. How far is it, Sionn? What are we waiting for?”

A proud smile crept back onto Sionn’s face, now that he had his friend’s attention again.

“You were the one watching dragons, not me.”

“Dragon? What dragon? Now show me!” Finnean couldn’t keep his excitement down and the two boys finally continued on their way down to the edge of the sea. They followed the rocky beach until a huge cliff reached out into the water and blocked their path. Sionn kept as close to the huge rock as he could, but had to step into the cold water to go on.

“Is there no other way? My feet will get all wet,” Finnean exclaimed loudly, but his friend grinned at him challengingly.

“You want to be a dragon rider, but are afraid to get your feet wet? You’re some adventurer.” Then he vanished behind the cliff, leaving Finnean behind.

“I’m not afraid; I just hate it to have cold feet. This better be good,” he muttered the last part to himself silently and stepped into the icy water, following his friend.

Behind the wall of stone was a part of the beach he had never seen before. Only a small area of it was dry, covered with branches from the trees above, the rest was rough stone, constantly being awashed by the salty sea water. And there lay the entrance to a small cave, reaching into the cliff.

Sionn stood outside and waited for his friend, who looked at him, his mouth standing slightly open.

“You’ve found this? It’s awesome!” The brown haired boy was still grinning widely, happy to share his discovery with his best friend.

“Yes, isn’t it? The area near the entrance is always covered with water, but if you go further inside it’s dry again. You coming?” He turned around and headed into the cave, but stopped abruptly only a few feet inside. Finnean, who had been following closely behind, nearly walked into him.

“Hey! Why are you…?” but he broke off as he saw the reason why his friend had stopped.

On the ground in front of them, his legs still in the water, lay a pale, dark haired man, unmoving. His long, wet hair was a mess and clung to his skin, but revealed enough of his neck to show a nasty looking wound at the side. His red and brown clothes were soaked but otherwise intact and left the boys with little doubt as to his allegiance.

“He’s from Kells, don’t you think?” Finnean had moved around his friend and was now looking down at the unconscious man with growing interest.

“I guess. No-one here in Temra would wear such a red shirt.”

“You think he’s dead?”

“How would I know? You always want to have the adventures, you check!” Sionn replied quickly, unwilling to approach the stranger any further.

Finnean seemed to contemplate his options for a moment and then turned around to leave the cave, but came back a second later, a twig from one of the branches outside in his hand.

“What are you doing? You’re not going to poke him with a stick, are you?”

“We have to know if he’s dead, right? I’ll find out. But we can switch places if you want to.” As Sionn didn’t make any indication of moving from his spot, Finnean rolled his eyes and then approached the man on the ground once more cautiously. He moved the stick slowly to push a little against his side, but as soon as the wood touched the leather fabric of the waistcoat, a hand shot up and grabbed the twig forcefully.

Finnean stared into the eyes of the man he’d thought dead a second ago, frozen to the spot.

“Did your mother never tell you not to poke people with sticks?” His voice sounded hoarse and strained, but the man didn’t waver as he kept looking at the blond boy intensely.

Finnean and Sionn screamed in panic and ran out of the small cave as fast as their legs could carry them. Meanwhile, Angus slumped back onto the rocky underground beneath him. His body was too numb from the ice cold water of the sea to feel any pain, but he felt incredibly weak.

The Mystic Knight tried to remember how he had gotten here, but before he could recall anything, his exhaustion overtook him and he succumbed back into the darkness that had been scratching at the edges of his mind.

 

**To be continued…**


	4. Laugh, I Nearly Died

Queen Maeve of Temra looked down at the soldier kneeling in front of her, anger contorting her features. The man had just told her about the encounter of his troops with the Mystic Knights and how her annoying adversaries had once again foiled her plans.

She knew full well that her normal soldiers didn’t stand a chance against the knights of Kells, but this one just had the bad luck to catch her in a foul mood.

“So, basically, you fled from the battle as soon as you were faced with some resistance. Isn’t that right, soldier?” Her voice thundered through the throne room, making the man flinch unconsciously.

“No, my Queen. We had already fought against a unit of Kells’ soldiers successfully, but the Mystic Knights were too strong for us. We just can’t defend ourselves against their weapons and I thought it’d be better to let the four Sentinels take care of them.”

“You should have sent me with them. I would have shown these spineless excuses for soldiers what it means to fight for the glory of Temra. My Queen.” Torc, who had just entered the throne room, bowed deeply to Maeve. Beside him, the still kneeling soldier sneered at him.

“While staying nicely outside the battlefield, of course. How brave.”

“What did you just say to me?” Torc roared, seeming about ready to jump the soldier, had Maeve not stopped him.

“Enough!” She looked down at the kneeling man, too frustrated to care about his disrespectful tone towards the captain of her troops.

“You and your men will make extra duty for the next month for fleeing from the battle today. And now go before I change my mind and let Torc think of a suitable punishment.”

“My Queen.” The soldier inclined his head to her, before standing up and leaving the room as fast as he could. Torc looked after him for a moment, obviously still angry about the way the man had spoken to him, but turned around immediately as Maeve addressed him.

“I assume the inspection of our outposts went by without problems?”

“The border is secured and the coasts are being monitored. Considering the long duration of our war with Kells, the discipline among the troops is still very high; especially compared to some of our local units,” he added with a sour look towards the doorway leading outside.

Maeve rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, before sitting down on her throne gracefully.

“Well, the next time we launch an attack on Kells, you will be leading the troops into battle again to assure their victory. In the meantime, feel free to take care of any disciplinary problems however you see fit.” She waved her hand to dismiss Torc, upon which he bowed deeply once more and left the throne room, a malicious grin on his face. That soldier would learn what it meant to respect his commander; he would make sure of that.

After her right hand had left, Maeve let her gaze wander across the room, deep in thought. Her troops had fled from the battle with the Mystic Knights, but taking into account the time it had taken them to return to the castle, that must have been hours ago. And there was still no word from the four Sentinels. Perhaps they had reached Kells castle by now, but Maeve was sure that one of her spies would have informed her of that, or they had lost and escaped, just like her soldiers. With the difference that those had at least shown her enough respect to report back to her.

Angry, the Queen of Temra rose from her throne and stepped forward to the edge of the platform, raising her sceptre into the air.

“Sentinels of Temra, Ice Lord, Lightning Bat, Rock Wolf and Sea Serpent, I call you to answer me immediately.” Magical lightning shot from the tip of the rune stone in her staff and to the ground in front of her, manifesting into the Sentinels. Contrary to Maeve’s expectations, however, only three of them appeared, fuelling her anger even more.

“Why did the Rock Wolf not follow my command? I summoned all of you, that includes him, too.”

The remaining Sentinels looked at each other, not sure how Maeve would react to the bad news. Finally the Ice Lord answered her question, albeit reluctantly.

“Well, he’s kinda… indisposed… since our run-in with the Mystic Knights.”

The queen raised an eyebrow at his evasive statement, definitely not accepting it as an explanation.

“What is ‘indisposed’ supposed to mean? Was he injured in the battle?”

“Not exactly injured. It’s more like that Mystic Knight Angus threw him over a cliff, so I guess he’s dead now.”

“What?” Maeve’s voice boomed through the throne room and the halls of Temra Castle, making the Sentinels look even more uncomfortable.

“The Rock Wolf is dead, killed by that petty thief Angus? I don’t believe it. Mider!” She turned to the chalice standing on a table opposite her throne and it didn’t take long for the dark fairy to appear. But he didn’t look very happy about Maeve’s tone of voice.

“So you are treating Mider like one of your underlings now, Maeve? Mider had expected a little more respect towards the person you still owe for all the powers he gave you.”

Maeve quickly realised that it hadn’t been a very good idea to let her anger out on her most important ally. Especially not if she wanted something from him.

“Lord Mider, forgive me. But the news the Ice Lord just delivered to me have alarmed me so thoroughly that I completely forgot my manners.”

“News? What news?” The fairy lord asked in his usual high pitched tone.

“It appears that the Rock Wolf of Temra is dead; pushed off a cliff by one of the Mystic Knights.”

Mider’s eyes narrowed and magical sparks erupted from the tips of his fingers. He looked about ready to explode as he stared at Maeve, who backed away a little, intimidated by his sudden mood change.

“I placed the Sentinels at your disposal to help you defeat Kells and ultimately Tir Na Nog, not to get them killed. Mider thinks he will have to revaluate his allegiance with you if every time Mider gives you his support, it ends with the same devastating results.” Maeve was already seeing all her hopes dashed, so she hurried to placate the furious fairy.

“But Lord Mider, maybe he isn’t truly dead. The Sentinels are strong magical beings, so he could probably survive even such a fall.”

Mider seemed to contemplate her suggestion and finally agreed to at least give it a try.

“I guess I should be able to teleport him here if he is indeed still alive. After all, Mider’s connection to the Sentinels is infinitely stronger than yours.” He concentrated and pointed his hand at a free spot beside the remaining Sentinels.

“Bane Morfain, the Rock Wolf!” Nothing happened, but Mider didn’t give up so fast.

“Rock Wolf of Temra, I summon you!” Once again, however, nothing except a few green sparks from Mider’s hand transpired and the dark fairy finally resigned his efforts.

“Well, it seems that from now on it’s the three Sentinels of Temra, then. But Maeve, Mider demands the life of the Mystic Knight who did this as compensation. If not, then you better learn how to fight this war without my magic.”

To the surprise of both Mider and Maeve, the Ice Lord interrupted them at this point.

“That shouldn’t be much of a problem, I think.”

Maeve’s eyes widened and she looked at the leader of the Sentinels expectantly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The Rock Wolf pulled that Mystic Knight down with him as he fell. So I think he’s dead, too.”

Silence fell over the large room, everyone too astonished to speak at first. But it was Maeve who pulled herself back together the fastest.

“One of the Mystic Knights, Angus, is dead? And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me right away?”

The Ice Lord just shrugged, looking uncomfortable once again.

“You were screaming quite a lot, so…”

“Out! All of you!” Maeve’s voice thundered through the throne room once again, causing the three Sentinels of Temra to leave in a hurry. The queen and Mider stayed behind and the dark fairy turned to her, his features much calmer than before.

“So I guess your dept is paid, then, Maeve. For today.” With that he vanished again, back into his dark realm.

 

* * *

 

Cathbad was outside in the courtyard, discussing something with one of the soldiers, as a guard at the gate suddenly announced the return of the Mystic Knights. The druid turned around, expecting to welcome the heroes of Kells home after yet another victorious battle, but stopped abruptly as only two knights and four horses passed the castle walls.

The princess was riding in front of Ivar, both of them leading a saddled horse slowly beside their own, and as Cathbad saw the grief stricken faces of the two royals, he knew that something terrible must have happened. Before the druid could ask for the whereabouts of the two missing Mystic Knights, however, an attentive soldier rushed forward and took the spare horse from Deirdre so she had her hands free to dismount her own, and called for one of his comrades to take care of the other one.

“Deirdre, Ivar, where are Rohan and Angus?” the druid finally asked. “You were gone for a very long time, did something happen?”

The princess looked at him with a pained expression, unable to speak. She was searching for words to explain why not all of the Mystic Knights had returned to the castle, but soon found that her voice was failing her, too. Instead, tears started to fall from her eyes, causing the old druid to take a sharp breath.

“By Dagda, child, tell me, are they alright?”

A sob escaped Deirdre’s throat, but just as she was about to say something, another soldier came and took the reins of her horse from her. And as if this was her cue, the princess turned and ran to the castle entrance, leaving a baffled Cathbad and an understanding Ivar behind.

“Princess!” the druid called after her, but was stopped immediately by the Mystic Knight of Water.

“Leave her! She needs to be alone right now.” Finally, a third soldier came and took the spare horse Ivar had been leading from him, allowing the prince to dismount his own.

“Just like Rohan, Deirdre will probably need a lot of time to recover from the terrible loss we and the entire Kingdom of Kells have suffered today.” The foreign prince paused a moment to take a deep breath, but Cathbad already knew what he was going to say.

“Angus?” The druid asked with a slight tremble in his voice. Ivar nodded slowly, still having a hard time himself to accept the harsh truth.

“Yes, I am afraid so. We stopped the approach of Maeve’s troops atop the western cliffs and fought there against the Sentinels of Temra. Angus battled against the Rock Wolf, but as he had already beaten him and pushed him over the edge into the breakers beneath, the creature somehow managed to pull him down with it. We have searched everywhere, but there was no sign of Angus to be found. I’m afraid either the icy waves of the sea or the unyielding rocks of the cliffs have caused his death.”

While listening to Ivar’s explanation closely, Cathbad had unconsciously raised a hand to his heart, where it still rested, trying to soothe the sudden pain that had erupted in his chest. He had known both Rohan and Angus for over ten years now and while Rohan was like the son he’d never had, he had grown a soft spot for Angus over the years, too, despite their constant quarrels.

Unwanted, his mind wandered back to their first encounter and he remembered the mischievous grin on the little boy’s face as he was selling stones to the other kids to throw at his best friend. It was the same grin he still wore at the prospect of gold or when he was hatching a plan with Rohan or… but the druid interrupted his own thoughts and reminded himself that all this lay in the past now. Because Angus was gone and he would never have to throw the little thief out of his chamber again, after catching him messing with his powders and potions for the thousandths time. Or witness him and Rohan fight over the pettiest things only to watch them renew their friendship the same day.

Strangely it was the realisation that he would never see those two together again, that struck the final nerve with the druid. He felt his knees buckle underneath him and was more than glad that Ivar reacted fast and grabbed his arm to steady him.

“Cathbad! Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

The old man nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts still far away.

“Yes, yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

Ivar guided the king’s advisor to a nearby bench and helped him sit down, but still looked at him worriedly. He hadn’t expected the news of Angus’ death to have such a devastating effect on Cathbad.

“I am truly sorry. I shouldn’t have rushed these horrible news like I did. That wasn’t very thoughtful of me. You’ve known Angus since he was a child, too, so it’s only natural that you’re just as attached to him as Deirdre.”

“No, don’t worry about me. There just isn’t a good way to deliver such information, but I’ll be alright. It’s your friends you should be worried about. Tell me, where exactly is Rohan?”

The blue clad man shook his head, unsure.

“I don’t know. He left us on Pyre back at the cliffs. I think he needs some time before he can face anyone again. Not that I blame him.”

“Neither do I, Ivar, neither do I. But as hard as it might be for all of us, we can’t allow ourselves to neglect the safety of Kells. I’m sure Maeve already knows what happened and when she thinks we’re vulnerable she will see this as an opportunity to attack. We have to inform the king immediately.” With this, Cathbad rose from the bench again and had Ivar help him into the castle and towards the throne room. Conchobar wouldn’t like this.

 

* * *

 

Technically it wasn’t really a victory, Maeve knew that. If you took an objective look at the facts, she had lost one of her best warriors, and so had Kells. But still, the queen of Temra had a very strong feeling that she would do much better without one of her four Sentinels, than Kells would do without one of its precious Mystic Knights.

She laughed in delight as she imagined how Rohan would cope after his friend’s demise and couldn’t wait to see his anguished expression. Just as she started to consider paying a little visit of condolence to Kells, however, her thoughts were interrupted as Torc, followed by a group of soldiers, entered the throne room.

“My Queen, I have a very unexpected gift for you. Just look at what was washed onto our shore!” The leader of the Temra troops moved aside to make room for the soldiers behind him, and now Maeve could see that they were carrying something. Or rather someone, whom they now dropped onto the floor unceremoniously.

She gasped in surprise as she stared down at the dark haired unconscious man, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Angus!” she exclaimed, stating the obvious, and then looked at Torc, confusion on her face.

“Is he still alive? Where did you find him?”

Her loyal fighter nodded while slowly drawing his sword and pointing it at the man on the ground.

“Yes, he is, but barely. He was found at the shore near one of our villages and the soldiers brought him here immediately. Now,” he bowed slightly and presented the hilt of his sword to her, “do you want to put him out of his misery yourself or would you allow me the honour to take his life?” Torc seemed to hope very much that she would agree to the latter, but the queen waved her hand at him, motioning for him to sheathe his weapon again.

“No, we’re not going to kill him. Angus’ life in my hands, that is a much too valuable leverage to be wasted this lightly. You just don’t have any imagination, Torc.”

“And Mider is afraid, neither do you, Maeve.”

The sorceress spun around to the high pitched voice coming from the table to her side and looked at the dark fairy with raised eyebrows.

“Lord Mider, I take it you have a better idea, then.”

“Oh yes, Mider has. This,” he motioned towards Angus, “is the perfect and probably unique opportunity to have your own Mystic Knight, who fights under your command.” Mider stared at his much taller allies expectantly, but Maeve and Torc just shared a sceptical look, unwilling to give the fairy the praise he seemed to be waiting for.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lord Mider, that sounds very promising, but haven’t we been there before? I could really do without a repetition of the whole disappointing ordeal we’ve had with Garrett,” Maeve explained her scepticism carefully.

In response, Mider rolled his eyes, making it very clear how much he hated to have to explain yet another of his plans to her.

“Believe me, Maeve, this time it will be different. In this state, Angus’ body and mind are weakened, making him very receptive to your magic. If you take your time, do it slowly, you can work your spell right through his mind and into his very soul. Then there won’t be any magic in this world strong enough to ever free him from it.”

Maeve started to pace around the room, already imagining the prospect of forcing Angus under her command.

“My own Mystic Knight, loyal to me forever. This will finally tip the balance in my favour and Kells will be mine.”

“And don’t forget how devastating it will be for the other Mystic Knights, especially Rohan, when their close friend Angus suddenly fights against them. He is much more important to them than Garrett could ever be.” This made the queen of Temra stop her wandering. She looked down at the still unconscious man and as she spoke, her voice was full of barely concealed excitement as if she still couldn’t believe her good fortune.

“It will completely destroy them. One by one the Mystic Knights will fall, killed by their own friend under my command.” Then she turned to the leader of her troops.

“Torc, let your soldiers take him to an isolated chamber and get a healer to make sure he stays alive. I need to start performing the spell as soon as possible, so we don’t waste any precious time before he recovers.” Maeve watched as the purple clad men took Angus away and raised her staff in a triumphant gesture.

“Soon, I will finally claim my birthright and take what is rightfully mine. I will be Queen of Temra _and_ Kells and this time no Mystic Knights will get into my way. I will destroy them forever!” Her laughter echoed through the dark halls of Temra Castle as Mider looked on silently, his fingers tapping together, an evil grin on his face.

“And Tir Na Nog will belong to Mider at last. Our time has come, Maeve. Our time has finally come.” With this, the dark fairy vanished into green light and left the joyful queen of Temra to herself.

 

**To be continued…**


	5. Numb

The world seemed to spin around her as Deirdre rushed through the dimly lit halls of the castle. She felt like she couldn’t breathe and was only relying on her instincts to guide her through the gloomy corridors to her room. Every guard she passed looked after her, confused by her ruffled appearance, but she didn’t even notice them, let alone care about what any of them might be thinking of her.

When the heavy wooden door of her chambers fell close behind her, it was as if a dam had broken and released all the pent up emotions inside of her. Tears were rushing like streams down her cheeks as the princess let herself slide down to the ground against the door. Anguished sobs wrecked her body and she wouldn’t stop trembling, not even as she pulled her legs against her chest and slung her arms around her knees. She buried her head between her arms anyway, trying to calm herself.

Deirdre couldn’t tell how long she had been sitting there unmoving, but after a while her body started to grow numb from the cold floor beneath her. She remained where she was, though, and only a considerable time later, when she wasn’t trembling from crying anymore, but from the cold, did she finally pull herself together enough to stand back up.

Too exhausted to cry anymore, the princess made her way over to her large closet and looked for something different to wear, as she was still in her fighting gear. Her eyes wandered over all her friendly coloured dresses, but she couldn’t bear to wear any of them right now. In the end she picked a dark blue one instead and changed into it quickly, then glanced into the mirror next to her once she was done as a force of habit.

Deirdre froze as she looked at the person staring back at her. It was her own reflection, but she hardly recognised herself in it. Streaks of dirt were all over her hands, face and neck, her usually smooth red hair was completely dishevelled and her eyes were red and swollen from all the crying of the past hours.

Deirdre felt like paralysed. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore and although she knew that nothing was possibly less important than her looks right now, her hand went automatically to the ornate brush on the small table beside the mirror. She pulled off her crown, threw it carelessly onto the bed and began to brush her hair resolutely.

At first, she ripped out several strands of red from her tangled hair without even noticing, but even as it was smooth again, she continued the motion mechanically.

“Princess, what are you doing there?”

The brush fell from her hand and clattered to the floor as Aideen’s tiny voice suddenly startled Deirdre. The sprite had flown in through the open window and was now looking at the princess curiously. Yanked out of her dazed state, Deirdre replied more harshly than she had meant to.

“I’m brushing my hair, or what does it look like?” She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, before looking at the small intruder again.

“What do you want from me, Aideen?”

“I’m searching for Rohan, but I can’t find him anywhere. And since I haven’t seen Angus anywhere, either, I thought you might know where he is.”

Deirdre’s throat was dry. She looked at the sprite, finally coming back to her senses, and shook her head sadly.

“Rohan isn’t here right now and I have no idea when he’s going to be back. He just… needs to be alone for a while.”

Aideen didn’t like that answer, but something in Deirdre’s voice made her forget about her search for Rohan for the moment. She looked at the much bigger woman intensely, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

“Is everything alright, Princess? It’s just that you look kind of… awful.” The red headed woman would have been angered by Aideen’s bluntness had this been any other day; but it wasn’t and so she just replied in a very low voice.

“Nothing is alright, Aideen. And it’s not going to be, because we’ve lost Angus today.” The words hung in the air and seemed to fill the entire room as the two females just looked at each other. Aideen’s wings moved slower and slower until the sprite sunk down onto the bed over which she had been hovering. Sadness filled her eyes as she looked up at Deirdre, searching for words.

“How?” she finally managed to ask. The princess sighed sadly and sat down next to Aideen, careful not to shake her too much. Then she began to tell her everything that had happened today. At first, it was difficult to talk about it, but then the words rushed from her mouth and she realised how glad she actually was to have the sprite at her side right now.

 

* * *

 

When Ivar left the throne room after his long and desolate discussion with the king and Cathbad, one of the guards was waiting for him in the hallway, a saddlebag in his hands and a very grim look on his face. He approached the Mystic Knight hesitantly.

“Prince Ivar, I need to give you something.”

“What do you have there, soldier?”

“This was on Princess Deirdre’s horse, but as I didn’t want to disturb her in her chamber, I thought you should have it.” He handed the bag to Ivar and seemed more than relieved as he could finally let go of it. He nodded to the foreign prince once more before he turned around and left him to himself.

Ivar looked confused for a moment, but then realisation suddenly hit him and he remembered what was inside the saddlebag. He opened it for a second and sighed deeply as his suspicion was confirmed.

He was definitely not the right person to decide what to do with this…

 

* * *

 

It was already night when Rohan returned to the castle. He had spent the last hours flying around on Pyre, but while he usually enjoyed everything about it - the cold air on his face, the motions of the dragon beneath him – it had only been a means to escape today. He had been completely numb to the otherwise thrilling sensations and the only emotion inside of him had been a dark and hollow pain, tearing at his heart and soul.

As he was now approaching the castle gate on foot, one of the guards on the wall suddenly called out to him.

“Who’s there? No-one is allowed to enter the castle at this time of night!”

Rohan knew the man was only doing his job, but he just didn’t have the patience today. He drew his sword and pointed it towards the soldier’s position, making the blade light up with flames so his face was illuminated.

“Not even a Mystic Knight?”

The guard flinched noticeably as he realised who he was talking to and hurried down to open the gate for Rohan. Just like everyone else in the castle, he had already heard about what had happened and was wise enough not to question the Mystic Knight’s right to enter at this hour. He wanted to utter his apologies to Rohan, but the blond man rushed past him once the gate was open, before he even managed to say another word.

The halls of the castle lay silent and were completely deserted except for the occasional soldier standing guard, but none of them talked to Rohan and some of them even seemed to avert their eyes as he passed.

His mind returned once again to the reason for his return to the castle. During his ride on Pyre he had played today’s fight in his head over and over again, but while the memory kept haunting him, he had realised something crucial to which he had paid no heed before.

Angus had lost his mace before falling over the edge of the cliff. Back there Rohan couldn’t have cared less about the mystic weapon, but now it seemed like the most important remaining connection to his best friend.

When he had remembered the fate of the mace, he had considered flying back to the cliff for a moment, but had soon realised that it wouldn’t be there anymore. Deirdre and Ivar had waited there for him for hours, hoping that he would find Angus, and there was simply no way that they hadn’t retrieved his mystic weapon in this time.

So Rohan was here now, in the castle in the middle of the night, planning to find his friend’s most prized possession. But how?

He stopped dead in his tracks as he really thought about his plan for the first time. Was he actually going to burst into Deirdre’s chamber at this hour, as he suspected her to have the mace? He couldn’t do that; not just because she was the princess, but because she had lost a friend today, too, and he didn’t want to disturb what little rest she could get.

So he decided to go to Cathbad instead. The druid would be asleep, too, but as his former apprentice Rohan wouldn’t have as much of a guilty conscience as he would have waking up Deirdre. And there was more than a slight chance after all that his friends had given the mace to the king’s advisor while he had been gone.

Rohan went for the shortcut through the throne room and was already halfway through as something completely unexpected suddenly caught his eye. There, on the mantelpiece above the fireplace lay what he had come for, Angus’ mace. He stopped in front of it and stared at the weapon, completely confused.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

The soft voice startled the young man and made him turn around to see Deirdre sitting on the ground below one of the windows, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was wearing a long dark dress that made her look unnaturally pale in the faint moonlight and a part of Rohan noticed that she wasn’t wearing her small crown without which he’d never seen her before.

“Princess! I didn’t realise anyone was still awake.”

The red haired woman looked up at him, grief overly clear in her eyes and voice.

“How am I supposed to sleep tonight? Ivar left a while ago for his chamber, but I doubt he’ll find any rest, either.” Her eyes wandered from Rohan to the mace lying behind him and not taking her eyes off of it, Deirdre stood up and walked over to her friend.

“I’ve stared at this for the last couple of hours, trying to figure out what to do with it. You get to decide, of course, but I think I might have an idea Angus would have agreed to.”

Rohan followed her gaze and let his eyes rest on the weapon for a few moments, his thoughts wandering. He hadn’t really thought about what he would do with it, once he had obtained the mace, so it probably wouldn’t hurt to listen to Deirdre’s suggestion. He nodded to her encouragingly.

“Go ahead.”

“I think here is the perfect place to honour his memory. We’ll have the mace mounted on the wall right above the mantelpiece, so everyone can see it.”

Rohan seemed to ponder the idea thoroughly, while staring at the wall in front of him. Then he let his gaze wander across the room, imagining how it would look in the day time, full of people.

“Honouring Angus’ memory in the middle of the throne room…” He sounded sceptical for a second, before actually smiling slightly. “He’d really love that.”

The princess seemed genuinely relieved by Rohan’s approval and returned his faint smile.

“I’m sure he would. That way Cathbad can never walk through this room again without being reminded of Angus.”

Her smile widened a little, but couldn’t hide her sadness as Deirdre fell silent, her thoughts wandering back to one of the many times Angus had made her laugh either involuntarily or on purpose over the years. Even when they had still been children, she had found a lot of his various pranks highly amusing, but hadn’t shown, because she had been the princess after all and he had only been a street urchin.

A tear slid down Deirdre’s cheek, but she didn’t mind that Rohan saw her crying. With most other people she would have wiped it away immediately, but they had known each other far too long to care about something like that.

Without really thinking about it, Deirdre suddenly reached up and laid a hand gently on the mystic weapon as if it was a connection to the friend she had lost. More tears started to fall and her voice was merely a whisper when she spoke.

“I miss him so much already. I know that war is dangerous, but somehow I always thought that our weapons and armour would protect us from anything. It’s silly, but somehow I’d never thought that one of us would actually… die.”

Rohan looked down at Deirde and suddenly found himself unable not to respond to her shattered appearance. Blowing all etiquette into the wind, he pulled the princess close to him and embraced her tightly.

A fleeting second of surprise passed, but then Deirdre returned his movement and wrapped her arms tightly around the much taller man as well, sobbing heart-wrenchingly against his chest. Rohan rested his head against hers and had no intention of letting the desperate young woman go again anytime soon.  


* * *

 

An old man walked slowly through the halls of Temra Castle, muttering various curses under his breath. He was a healer, the best of the kingdom, and had been one for nearly forty years, but in all this time he had never gotten an assignment like the one today.

“‘Just keep him alive’, she says. ‘We don’t want him to recover too quickly.’ Insanity!” He was a loyal servant to the royal house of Temra and usually followed the queen’s orders without question, but when he was treating a patient it was his moral duty to do everything in his powers to heal him, not to keep him alive for torture. Or whatever that magic was that Queen Maeve was using on the stranger.

The old man sighed as he reached the door of the remote chamber specially prepared for their ‘guest’. Only very few people knew of him being here and the healer had not one doubt that Queen Maeve wouldn’t hesitate a second to get someone else to tend to the injured young man, should he voice his objections. So he kept his mouth shut as he entered, but swallowed hard as he saw what was happening in the room.

Maeve was standing beside the dark haired unconscious man and was holding her sceptre above his head. The runestone on top of it was emanating a bright green light that cast everything in the room in a sickening shade, including the already unhealthy pale skin of his patient.

The healer went over to the makeshift bed, knowing better than to disturb the queen. He checked the bandage around the young man’s neck, making sure the severe wound there wasn’t bleeding again, but didn’t renew it. He possessed several herbs that were known for their healing properties, but following Maeve’s orders, he hadn’t used any of them. He had only cleaned and wrapped the wound, but was hoping strongly that his ruler would change her mind soon.

It was bad enough whenever he wasn’t able to help someone, but not being allowed to was even worse, as he was now experiencing first hand. He looked up at the queen, but realised to his surprise that she wasn’t looking very good herself. There were beads of sweat on her forehead and her expression seemed extremely strained, but she didn’t appear to have any intention of taking a break anytime soon.

The healer cleared his throat and addressed Maeve tentatively.

“My Queen, maybe you should rest for a while. You look exhausted.”

She glanced at him irritatedly, but let her sceptre sink nevertheless.

“I will rest when this is done. When I have finally finished the perfect weapon to destroy Kells.” She lifted her arm once again and continued to concentrate on the spell she was casting on Angus. It didn’t matter how much of her strength this would cost her, as long as she achieved her goal. First Angus would fall, then the rest of the Mystic Knights and finally Kells. She had no doubts about it.

  

**To be continued…**


	6. The End is the Beginning is the End

It was still very early in the morning as Cathbad put on his robes for the new day. He had decided to go out into the woods for some time, partly because the stock of some of his herbs was getting low, but most of all because he was seeking the chance to clear his head at least for a while.

Angus’ unexpected death had been hard on him and although he was trying to keep the best interests of Kells in mind, it wasn’t easy to stay focused.

Before he left the room, the druid went over to the small window leading out to the throne room, to see if the king was already awake. But to his surprise, down below wasn’t the royal representative of Kells he had expected to see.

Princess Deirdre was sitting on the ground underneath one of the windows, fast asleep in the arms of his former apprentice. Cathbad sighed, while a small smile tucked at the corners of his mouth. He had known about Rohan’s feelings for Deirdre for a long time now, and at least since they had become Mystic Knights, he had suspected her of returning these feelings.

It only saddened him that in the end it had taken such a tragedy for their relationship to finally intensify.

The druid turned around and headed for the door, letting the two sleep some more. Who knew when they would find some rest again.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting slowly behind the hills to the west of Kells Castle, bathing the walls and the surrounding grounds in a soft red-golden light. Torches were being lit in preparation for nightfall while everybody of distinction in the kingdom had assembled in the throne room of the castle.

A warm fire was crackling in the fireplace and illuminated the room in the beginning dusk alongside the many candles that had been placed everywhere.

Princess Deirdre was standing beside her father’s throne, Rohan and Ivar at her side, and looked at the assembled crowd. Most of them hadn’t really known Angus or cared about him at all, yet all of them had come to his commemoration to show their respect.

She wondered vaguely what this ceremony would have looked like if Angus had died a year ago, before he had received his mystic armour and weapon. Then it would have been Rohan, Cathbad and probably herself who would have said their goodbyes to their friend, not half the kingdom remembering the Mystic Knight they had lost. But then again, a year ago, she had neither known nor liked Angus even half as much as he had deserved.

Deirdre’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, as her father rose from his throne and stepped forward, effectively silencing everyone present. He looked around the room slowly, taking in the expressions of those facing him, before he began to speak in a grave tone of voice.

“In all those years of war that lie behind us, I’ve already held far too many memorial ceremonies for the countless brave soldiers we have lost. But all those times I had always been certain that our kingdom, that _we_ would recover from the wounds we had received and become stronger than before.

Now, however, as I am standing before you, I feel that with Angus we have lost a lot more than just another warrior. Because what makes the Mystic Knights so unique is neither their magic weapons nor armour, but the hope they have brought us, when we had non left.” Conchobar paused for a moment to let the words sink in and let his eyes wander over the faces before him once more, finding genuine concern in them. He glances sideways at his daughter and her companions, before continuing.

“Three days ago, a part of that hope has been taken from us again, when Angus, the Mystic Knight of Earth, died, and his loss seems to be particularly hard, because he was both, a Mystic Knight and a friend.

We have assembled here today to honour and remember him and to do that, those of us who have known him best would like to say a few words.” He looked at Deirdre who had wanted to speak first and gently laid a hand on her back, trying to convey as much comfort as possible with the small gesture.

The princess stepped forward, appearing to be much more composed than she truly felt, and looked at the assembled crowd once more. All the members of the court, as well as the highest ranking soldiers of the army were present, and many of them had expressed their condolences to her prior to the ceremony. Deirdre had actually been very moved by their support and sympathy, but tried now very hard not to let her inner turmoil show too much.

“I first met Angus when Rohan moved into the castle as a child to become Cathbad’s apprentice,” the princess began her speech, her thoughts wandering back years ago. “The two were so inseparable even then that it seemed as if Angus was living here, too, and since we three were the only children in the castle, we involuntarily spent time together every now and then,” she explained.

“But I was unfair to him. I thought myself superior thanks to my nobler heritage, but little did I know that Angus would grow up to become one of the bravest, most kind-hearted and loyal men I have ever known in my life.” Deirdre faltered for a second, tears coming to her eyes again, but she fought them off and continued, albeit sounding a little husky.

“I’m ashamed to admit that when we first became Mystic Knights, I was sceptical about whether he was worthy of being a part of this group. But he disabused me by not only fighting heroically at our side, but by saving all of our lives multiple times. I think… no, I _know_ that if it hadn’t been for Angus, the Kingdom of Kells wouldn’t be free today anymore.”

 

* * *

 

A bright green light was still filling the room. For the last three days, Queen Maeve had spent every waking hour in the small chamber, concentrating on the spell she was casting on Angus, weaving her magic and imprinting his mind with it.

Mider had been right, this time was completely different from what she had done to Garrett; it was like comparing a soft breath of wind on a summer’s day to a hurricane sweeping across the land. This time no magic trick or potion from Kells’ druid would be able to remove her spell again; she had worked it far too deep for that.

Maeve smiled as she now let her sceptre sink slowly, exhausted, but more than satisfied with the result. Angus’ soul, the very essence of his being was hers now and she couldn’t wait for him to wake up so she could see the change for herself. Now that she wasn’t casting her spell actively on him anymore, his consciousness would probably recover very quickly from the slumber she had forced him into for the past few days. His body had already mostly healed, but it had been indispensable to keep him asleep to restrain his resistance.

Maeve watched the young man intently, suddenly feeling the weight of what she had done. This was the turning point of the war, probably the beginning of a new era and most certainly the guarantor for the downfall of Kells.

 

* * *

 

Once Deirdre had resumed her position beside her father, Ivar stepped forward to take the floor after her. He was much calmer than the princess, but everybody could tell that he, too, was having a hard time speaking.

“I have thought a lot about what I was going to say today, because out of everyone present here, I am easily the one who had known Angus the least amount of time. However, he was one of those people who immediately make an impression on everyone they meet, be it either a good or a bad one,” Ivar recalled with a fond expression on his face. As he continued, there was a sad smile spreading on his lips.

“So, naturally, the very first thing Angus did when we met was to lie to me to make me join his and Rohan’s quest to find Tir Na Nog. I was quick to deem him untrustworthy, but that same day I also witnessed him risk his life to protect his friends and help us all to gain our mystic weapons.

Angus did not just impress King Fin Varra back then, but me, too, and to this day I am proud to be able to call him my friend.” He turned around to look at Rohan and Deirdre for a second, then faced the crowd again, his voice much softer than before.

“We have an old saying in my home country that states ‘the most precious friends are always those who come unexpected’. I think it never applied as well as in the case of Angus.”

 

* * *

 

“My Queen, you have called for me?” Torc had just entered the small room and looked at Maeve expectantly, who was still watching the dark haired man lying before her.

“Yes, I have finally finished my spell and Angus will wake up very soon. Is everything prepared for his stay here in the castle?”

The leader of her troops nodded, glad that the arduous procedure had come to an end at last.

“Yes, a chamber has been set up and I will send one of the servants over with his new clothes. I just hope he will show himself worthy of wearing the emblem of Temra.”

Maeve chuckled, not having expected Torc to welcome the new addition to her forces with open arms.

“Believe me, he will. And if I remember correctly, there has been a time when you have fought for Kells, too. So maybe you shouldn’t be too quick with your judgement.”

“You’re right, but it didn’t take a spell to get me to choose the right side,” Torc answered, noticeably pricked in his pride.

“No, probably not.” Maeve replied with a taunting grin, but immediately turned her attention away from her right hand man, when there was a sudden movement beside her.

For the first time in days, Angus was showing signs of life again, his eyes clearly moving under his closed lids and his fingers digging into the blanket beneath him. Maeve approached the bed and looked down at him for a moment, anticipation more than evident on her face. She had waited long enough for this.

“Get the healer immediately; I want to be sure that he is alright,” she commanded Torc without even looking at him.

“As you wish.” He inclined his head to her and left swiftly, leaving Maeve alone with the slowly awakening Mystic Knight. She continued to watch as he fought his way out of the unconsciousness, eager to see how her spell had influenced the formerly loyal fighter of Kells.

 

* * *

 

At last it was Rohan’s turn to speak. As he stepped in front of the crowd, the room became even quieter than before, if that was even possible, since everyone knew of course about his long lasting and very deep friendship with Angus.

All eyes were fixed on Draganta, but for a few seconds he just stood there, unmoving, and wished for the umpteenth time that he was somewhere else, that this wasn’t really happening. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say, had actually pushed all thoughts of the commemoration aside for the last two days, but he hadn’t needed to prepare for this anyway. He just had to tell them about his best friend, about the side of him that most of these nobles had never seen before and now never would.

Rohan closed his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts and then finally began to speak, his voice heavy with grief.

“I know that many of you have always just seen Angus as a thief and a troublemaker, but he was much more than that and I am not just talking about him being a Mystic Knight.

I have known Angus basically all my life; we have grown up together on the streets and if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have survived even a single winter out there. He was the one who taught me how to survive and how to fight. He was the one who showed me what it was like to have somebody you could count on in your life.” Rohan broke off, his voice too choked up with emotions to continued for a moment. He cleared his throat and took a few deep breaths, then resumed his speech.

“I won’t deny that there were several times when Angus was the one who got me or both of us into trouble, but we’ve always had each other to rely on when things got rough. And that’s the most important thing in a family.” He paused again, but only for a second while choosing his next words carefully.

“I have never known who or where my parents were, but I have always known who my brother is. He died three days ago.” Rohan swallowed hard and turned around to go to a small pedestal beside the throne where Angus’ mace was lying on a cloth of dark red velvet. He took it, tears shining in his eyes, and went over to the fireplace.

The mural on the wall above it had been painted over and an elegant mounting had been attached in its place. The blond man hesitated a second, took a deep breath and then put the mace carefully on top of it.

When he was done, Cathbad stepped beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder, looking into the eyes of the man he cared for as if he were his own son. He saw the pain and grief in the young man’s eyes and knew without a doubt that no matter how much time would pass, this wound from losing his best friend would never heal.

He nodded sadly and squeezed Rohan’s shoulder encouragingly, before turning towards the fireplace. The druid then pulled a small bag out of his robes from which he took a handful of powder and spread it over the mace on the wall, muttering some ancient words in the process.

When he was done, the weapon began to sparkle for a few seconds, but the effect was gone as fast as it had come and nothing indicated that any change had taken place. Cathbad then turned back around to face the room full of people.

“I’ve now cast a very powerful protection spell on Angus’ mace. As a mystic weapon it is much too dangerous to be displayed here like this, unprotected, so I’ve made sure that only a Mystic Knight will be able to remove it from its place again.” He glanced at the mace for another long moment, then addressed the crowd once more, suddenly sounding deeply moved.

“From now on his weapon will be here to honour Angus’ memory and to make sure that none of us ever forgets the Mystic Knight of Earth and the sacrifice he made while defending Kells.”

 

* * *

 

“He’s exhausted and still a little weak, but otherwise perfectly fine.”

Maeve had waited outside while the old healer had examined Angus to make sure he had recovered sufficiently. She grinned upon hearing the positive news.

“Good. Then I think it is time now to welcome my newest soldier.” She dismissed the healer and approached the door, feeling very elated about the progress of her plan. Very soon she would be sitting on the throne of Kells like she had been meant to all along.

When she opened the door and entered, Angus had been pacing the room, but quickly stopped and turned around to face her. He was wearing plain dark clothes, not yet the battle garment she had had custom made for him, and the white cloth of the bandages was still clearly visible around his neck, nearly matching the paleness of his skin.

Their eyes met and whatever unrest had afflicted Angus before, immediately vanished as he sunk down on one knee and bowed his head to Maeve.

“My Queen, I have waited for your command.”

She smiled, his reaction exceeding all her expectations, but still wanted to make sure that everything had worked out as planned.

“Do you know where you are and how you got here?” she asked calmly, watching Angus’ reaction closely.

He kept his eyes on the ground, but didn’t hesitate a second to answer her questions.

“This is the castle of Temra. I have been wounded in battle and was brought here so you could save my life.” Maeve had come closer and was now circling the young man slowly, looking down at him intently. She had one question left to verify the success of her spell and was actually somewhat anxious to ask it.

“Do you know who you are, soldier?”

Again, he didn’t miss a beat before answering.

“I am Angus of Temra,” the Mystic Knight replied as he lifted his head to look Maeve straight in the eye, “and I am your loyal servant.”

 

**To be continued…**


	7. Haunted

Deirdre couldn’t sleep. It had been a week since Angus’ death and she still couldn’t even close her eyes for a moment without seeing his face, let alone sleep without being tormented by nightmares over and over again. Every night she woke up wide eyed, shivering and breathless after seeing her friend fall to his death and each time she realised once more just how much they had all failed him.

She had seen how Angus had helped Rohan in his fight against the Ice Lord, because she always kept an eye out for the blond man in battle, but when the former thief had needed some support himself, none of them had been at his side. One of the most important defenders of Kells, no, one of her most important friends was dead just because the rest of the Mystic Knights hadn’t been looking out for each other like they were supposed to.

The princess sobbed silently, sat up and tried to rub the tears from her eyes that threatened to run down her face.

“This can’t continue!” she told herself sternly. “I can’t wake up crying every night. I need some sleep and this won’t bring him back.” But just as she had said the words, a choked noise escaped her throat, accompanied by a new rush of tears to her eyes and a shiver down her spine.

“Nothing will bring him back…,” she whispered slowly, letting the words sink in. This wasn’t a new realisation; far from it, actually. Deep down, she had known that there was no hope the instant Angus had vanished from her sight as he had fallen over the edge of the cliff, but this was the first time she had ever said it out loud.

“Nothing will bring him back. Angus is gone. Dead.” Deirdre forced herself to say it again, hoping that accepting the truth would ease the pain, but it didn’t. Instead she had the feeling that she couldn’t breathe anymore. The walls of her chamber seemed to close in on her and the sheets of her bed were suddenly wrapped around her much too tightly.

Gasping, the princess pulled back the blanket and stood up. The floor was cold, but she didn’t even notice. She merely rushed to put a light robe over her sleeping dress and headed for the door. When her hand touched the handle, she stopped briefly and wiped the tears from her face; the guards in the hallways didn’t have to see that she had been crying. Then she left her chambers to take a walk around the castle.

Deirdre didn’t know where she was going and didn’t really mind, either. She just wanted to walk, clear her mind and maybe later go outside for a moment to catch a breath of fresh air, but for now she was content to just escape the confinements of her room.

Some of the guards nodded to her as she passed, but most left her to herself and she was grateful for that. She needed to be alone desperately and so she walked into the direction of the throne room. There were no guards there at night, but it was larger than her own room and when the moonlight fell through the big windows, it had a much friendlier atmosphere compared to the dark corridors of the castle.

However, as the princess approached the large doorway of the room, she felt that something was wrong, even before she heard the noise coming from within. As she turned the corner, she saw a figure leaving through the door to the right of the fireplace, but she couldn’t make out any details in the dim light. Deirdre moved faster to follow whoever the person was, but only a few steps into the room, something caught her eye. The moonlight was falling onto the mantelpiece to her left and she realised with horror that the wall above it was deserted.

Angus’ mace was gone.

“Thief!” Deirdre cried at the top of her voice as she ran through the door in front of her and into the corridor behind it. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest and her hands clenched tightly as the thought rang in her head. _Angus’ mace is gone. That thief stole it!_ She couldn’t believe that anyone would dare to do this, but she would personally make sure that this impertinent burglar didn’t get off unpunished.

As soon as she had left the throne room, she spotted the figure at the end of the long hallway. This time she could make out dark clothes and equally dark hair, before the man – judging from his built, the thief was male – turned around a corner into a less important part of the castle.

Deirdre grinned triumphantly. Apparently, the intruder didn’t know his way around the castle, or he wouldn’t have chosen a hallway that only led to one room without any way of escaping. She knew she probably should have waited for the guards she must have alerted with her scream, as she was unarmed and only wearing a robe and a nightgown, but the rage burning inside of her made her forget her better judgement. Following the thief, she, too, ran around the corner, but froze instantly at the next step. Her robe had opened through the running and was now revealing her nightgown, but she didn’t notice, as her attention was somewhere else entirely.

A few meters in front of her, the thief was just entering the room at the end of the corridor and this time he was facing her. He was already closing the door, but Deirdre could see his face clearly as it was being illuminated by a nearby torch on the wall.

Angus.

His jet-black hair, his pale skin, his dark eyes. There was no way she was mistaken. But how could it be?

The door closed, but before it did, there was a grin on the man’s face that threw Deirdre off. She had only seen it for a split-second, but it hadn’t been the mischievous grin Angus usually wore, or anything even remotely resembling a true smile. It had been an arrogant grin, taunting her, and she felt belittled just by thinking of it.

Suddenly there were voices behind her and a group of the castle guards appeared at the princess’ side. They stopped as they saw her and bowed slightly.

“Princess Deirdre! We heard a scream that there is a thief in the castle. Did you see him?” the leader of the group asked, and even though seeing his future queen in her rather revealing night clothes was clearly making him uncomfortable, he was trying his best to hide it. Normally, Deirdre would either have been embarrassed by her unseemly state or made a snappy comment about the guard’s glances, but right now she was much too shaken to do anything else but tie up her robe and point to the door in front of her.

“I was the one who called. I followed… an intruder… right to this door. He stole something from the throne room.”

“Then he won’t get very far. That room is a dead-end,” the soldier replied smugly. Then he and his comrades approached the door, their swords drawn, only to find it locked from the inside. He cursed, but didn’t lose any time. He motioned for one of the bigger soldiers to take care of the door and the man really didn’t need more than two tries to burst the lock and allow the troop to enter the room.

Which was empty.

“By Dagda! That thief has to be a wizard!” the leader of the group exclaimed angrily. He moved aside as Deirdre entered the small storeroom to take a look herself, and began to shout orders at his men.

“I’m not going to be fooled by some burglar who thinks he can rob the castle under my watch! Alert the guards at the walls and search the surrounding area! I want him found!” Before he sent them away, he turned to Deirdre again, his voice much softer this time.

“Princess, what did the thief steal? My men need to know what they’re looking for.”

“The mace,” Deirdre replied absentmindedly. However, as her voice wasn’t more than a whisper, the soldier couldn’t understand her properly.

“I am sorry, what did you say?” This time, something about his voice finally got the princess out of her stupor and she turned to face the taller man.

“That thief, whoever he was, he stole Angus’ mystic weapon, his mace. Right out of my father’s throne room.”

The soldier took a sharp breath and his jaw clenched. He bowed to Deirdre before he spoke again.

“I won’t allow the memory of one of ours to be violated like this. I swear to you that I will not rest until the thief is caught and the weapon returned.” He kept his head bowed, waiting for the princess’ reply.

The young woman eyed the man with mild surprise. She had always thought that Angus’ standing with the troops of Kells wasn’t exactly the best, due to his rather inglorious past, but this guard didn’t seem to make a difference between the former thief and any other of the heroic soldiers of the kingdom, as he would surely defend their memory just as fiercely.

Deirdre’s face lit up a little and a small smile crept onto her lips that almost made it to her eyes.

“Thank you, soldier. But I am sorry, I do not even know your name.”

“Ulric, my lady. I’ve been transferred here from one of our outposts a month ago. But if you’ll excuse me now, I have to coordinate the search so our troops know what they’re doing.”

“Of course. And I hope you’ll find him.”

Ulric nodded once more and then left the room, accompanied by the remaining soldiers. Deirdre stayed behind, still utterly confused.

She knew what she had seen, but her logically working mind was screaming at her that it must have been either a hallucination or at best one of Maeve’s tricks. But no matter how much even his behaviour was telling her that this man couldn’t possibly have been Angus, her heart was clinging desperately to the idea that her friend was somehow still alive. There had to be a reason for him braking into the castle, but the mace was his, after all, so if it really had been Angus, then no real damage had been done.

Deirdre’s thoughts were interrupted, however, as Ivar suddenly called her name from the corridor. She turned to face him, surprised by his unexpected appearance.

“Ivar, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

The foreign prince raised an eyebrow and looked at the princess of Kells slightly puzzled.

“I could ask you the same, Deirdre. There are guards everywhere in the hallways, searching the castle and I think even the area outside. It’s hard to sleep with that kind of commotion going on.”

“Yes, they’re searching for the thief. He might still be around.”

“What thief? Tell me what happened!”

Deirdre sighed deeply. She wasn’t even sure herself about what had happened, so what was she supposed to tell Ivar? Then again, if she couldn’t confide in one of her fellow Mystic Knights, then whom could she trust at all?

“Someone stole Angus’ mace from the throne room. I followed the thief to this room, but when the soldiers broke the door open, there was nobody here.”

Ivar gasped, clearly shaken by the news.

“But how could he get past Cathbad’s protection spell? Did you see who the thief was?”

The princess hesitated, not sure if her friend would believe her or if she even believed herself.

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure? Either you recognised him or not. So did you?” The foreign prince looked at her expectantly, confused by Deirdre’s unusual hesitation.

“Yes,” the young woman finally admitted with a small sigh. “Yes I did recognise him. And although I’m perfectly aware that this will make me sound insane, I’m sure that it was Angus.”

The seconds following these words seemed to stretch on forever as Ivar was looking at the princess incredulously, apparently trying to figure out what would make her say something like that. After a while, however, Deirdre clearly had had enough of his silence and threw her hands into the air exasperatedly.

“Would you please stop staring at me like that and finally say something? I know that it sounds highly unlikely, but…”

“Unlikely? I’m still trying to see if you have maybe suffered any head injury recently that would explain this.” Ivar broke off and took a deep breath to calm himself. He knew that Deirdre would never make something like this up, but the topic was just too painful for him and for all of them to be talked about lightly.

“You know he’s dead. You have seen Angus fall just like me and if he had still been alive, Rohan would surely have found him on Pyre. He searched half the island after all.”

 “I know, ok? I do. But I also know that I saw him, as clearly as I’m now seeing you and since we’ve never found Angus’ body, I’m just saying that it’s at least possible that it was really him.”

The prince looked at her intently once more, but this time he didn’t seem to be as sceptical anymore as he had been before. He sighed and shrugged, giving up on the argument.

“Well, we won’t know for sure until the guards catch the thief, if they can find him, that is. But whoever he turns out to be, we have to inform Rohan that Angus’ mace has been stolen. He would want to know immediately.”

Deirdre nodded in agreement and headed out of the small room.

“You’re right. And as none of us is probably going to get any more sleep tonight, I’m going to get changed. I’ll send the first guard I see to Rohan’s hut and then we’ll all meet back here as soon as possible.”

Before the princess could leave, however, Ivar stopped her once more.

“No. I’ll go myself. He shouldn’t hear this from one of the soldiers. But I think it’ll be best if we keep your little observation to ourselves for now. At least until we know something more about what’s going on.”

Deirdre looked back at him for a moment, uncertain, but ultimately agreed. The whole situation was horrible enough for Rohan as it was, she didn’t want to raise his hopes if it turned out that she had just been seeing things. Although she didn’t think that that was the case here.

“Alright. Then I just hope the soldiers will catch the thief tonight.”

 

* * *

 

The princess was already standing inside the small storeroom again, this time wearing her battle clothes, as Rohan and Ivar appeared in the corridor leading to her position.

One look was enough to see the anger contorting Rohan’s features, but Deirdre wasn’t surprised at all. She hadn’t expected him to take the theft lightly, and she assumed that it had taken all of Ivar’s persuasiveness to stop the blond man from searching the grounds around the castle himself, looking for the escaped thief.

As the two men entered the room, Rohan didn’t waste any time on courtesies and came straight to the point, startling the princess slightly with his harshness.

“Ivar told me you caught the thief in the act, so how could he get away from you? And did you see his face?”

Deirdre was taken aback for a second, but recovered quickly and tried not to take offence at Rohan’s rude tone, given the circumstances.

“Well, I didn’t exactly catch him in the act, he was already leaving the throne room when I entered. I pursued the thief to this storeroom, but although it’s a dead-end he somehow managed to escape from it. My guess is that he was using some kind of magic to get out of the castle.”

Rohan looked at her, his brow furrowed, seemingly surprised by her explanation, although the princess couldn’t quite see a reason for this reaction. When he finally replied, however, she couldn’t stop herself from involuntarily mimicking his reaction.

“But this room isn’t a dead-end,” the Mystic Knight of Fire announced matter-of-factly, as if this should have been obvious.

In the end it was Ivar, who voiced the surprise both he and the princess were feeling at this apparently nonsensical statement.

“It’s not? But it’s got no other exit, not even a window. So unless our thief can walk through walls, that sounds pretty much like a dead-end to me.”

Rohan shook his head and went over to a shelf at the wall, which he then moved with much less effort than his friends would have expected. Behind it was an old and long forgotten fireplace, which not even Deirdre had ever seen before.

“Did… did Angus know about this?” the princess asked with trepidation in her voice.

“Yes, he was the one who showed me. Why?”

Deirdre and Ivar looked at each other, unsure of how to explain their, or rather Deirdre’s, assumption to Rohan. It was the princess who finally decided to tell him everything despite her earlier decision not to, her demeanour suddenly more than unsure of herself.

“It’s just that I kind of _did_ see the thief’s face. It was probably just another trick from Maeve, trying to hurt us, but I could have sworn…”

“What?” Rohan was getting tense, a part of him already anticipating what Deirdre was going to say, but still needing to hear it from herself. “What did you see?”

“I could have sworn that it was Angus.”

Dead silence settled over the room while the words still seemed to ring in Rohan’s ears. His mind was reeling, but his expression suddenly became calm, even cold, as he turned to leave the room wordlessly, his hands clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

Ivar glanced at Deirdre for a startled second just to find her as surprised as himself, then he followed Rohan and blocked his way outside.

“What are you planning to do? We still don’t know what’s going on; you can’t just storm out without any idea where you’re going.”

“Oh, I know exactly where I’m going. Temra. This is one of Maeve’s illusions, like all those times she’s fooled us before. But this was the last trick she ever pulled on us. She wants to hurt us, fine; I’ll show her that that works both ways.” Ivar stopped dead in his tracks, genuinely appalled by Rohan’s ruthlessness.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, a slight hesitation audible in his voice.

“What do you think? I’ll kill her.”

 

**To be continued…**


	8. The Devil You Know

_“What are you going to do?” Ivar asked, a slight hesitation audible in his voice._

_“What do you think? I’ll kill her.”_

The words seemed to fill the entire hallway and their significance weighted down on everyone present, making them feel as if time itself had stopped around them.

For a long moment nobody moved and the Mystic Knight of Water stared at his friend in shock, completely unsure if he was actually being serious. He knew that something in Rohan had been broken by Angus’ death, but he had never expected him to become this ruthless or able to consider murder without even so much as batting an eye. However, the determination in the blond man’s eyes neither wavered as he continued to return Ivar’s gaze, nor when the princess suddenly caught up to them and interrupted the silence.

“But what if it’s not a trick? If he really is alive?” Her voice was full of a defiant hope she knew none of her friends was sharing at the moment, but she could feel that there was something more behind tonight’s events than just Maeve toying with them. She looked at the two taller men intensely, ripping them out of their silent argument.

Ivar, who wasn’t even convinced yet that the thief’s appearance hadn’t just been a figment of Deirdre’s imagination, wanted to warn the princess not to get her hopes up, but Rohan beat him to the punch, in the less than tactful way he was starting to display lately.

“He’s not, alright? Angus died and his blood is on Maeve’s hands and now she’s even defiling his death by taunting us with it. I will not let her get away with this any longer and I thought that you two of all people would feel the same way.”

Deirdre opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she thought about her answer more thoroughly.

Despite her grief over Angus’ death and her, of course, increased loathing of Temra, the thought of revenge had never really crossed her mind until this point. Somehow she had only thought of Angus as another victim of the war she had practically grown up with and although his death had caused her the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, she had never blamed Maeve for it personally.

She was spared of having to answer, however, as Ivar suddenly spoke up.

“I understand what you’re feeling, Rohan, but has it never crossed your mind that this is exactly what she wants? Maeve is taunting us, you’re right, but she must have planned this thoroughly. Not only did she manage to get one of her men inside the castle, but he was also able to work his way around Cathbad’s protection spell. I just fear that if we storm into Temra Castle without a better plan, we’ll only end up in one of Maeve’s traps.”

Rohan shook his head, irritated by his friend’s cautious nature. He couldn’t believe how Ivar could pick this very moment to question his leadership.

“I don’t care if Maeve is expecting me or not. No, I actually hope she is, because it would probably feel unfair if I kill her when she’s unprepared.”

Ivar sighed in frustration and threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. He was more than fed up with Rohan’s increasingly rash attitude.

“Just listen to yourself, Rohan! It’s not like you to take such a risk lightly and if Angus were still here –” But Ivar broke off as Rohan suddenly seized him by the collar of his blue shirt and pulled him closer so they were eye to eye.

“But he’s not! And I will go to Temra and end Maeve’s reign once and for all. So either you come with me and fight by my side, or you get out of my way. Your decision. But I’m leaving now.”

“Guys! Rohan, stop it!” Deirdre tried to pull the two men apart, but wasn’t even nearly strong enough to separate them from each other. Frustrated, she gave up and tried it again with words instead.

“Rohan, please, let Ivar go. _I_ will accompany you on your way to Temra.”

Upon hearing this, both of her friends looked at her in surprise and Rohan finally released his grip on Ivar.

“So you understand that I only have the best interests of Kells in mind? I’m going to free the entire island from Maeve’s reign of terror.”

Deirdre, however, shook her head sadly, not agreeing with Rohan’s well phrased plan.

“No. I understand that you want to do this only for yourself and your desire for revenge, but also that there’s apparently no way of stopping you. And I’ve already lost one good friend this week; I couldn’t bear to lose you, too. So there’s no way I’m letting you go alone.”

Rohan looked into Deirdre’s eyes for a long moment, slightly baffled by her honesty, and realised somewhat ashamed how badly he had been treating her since his late arrival at the castle tonight. He also noticed how considerate the princess must have been towards him, as she normally wouldn’t let anyone get away with this kind of behaviour.

He inclined his head to her and tried to calm himself down, although his still boiling temper made it hard to even think properly.

”Thank you, that means a lot. I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to be around at the moment, but it’s good to know that you’re at my side even if you don’t support what I’m doing.”

Deirdre smiled slightly, but Rohan’s placative words didn’t reduce the worry she was still feeling about his more than unusual behaviour. She just hoped that killing Maeve would really give him the peace he seemed to be searching for.

“Also, I still want to know who the thief is and I guess Maeve is the one holding the answer to this mystery.”

Ivar looked onto the scene before him and sighed deeply. He still thought that Rohan’s plan was beyond foolish and could probably get them all killed, but of course, he didn’t want to let his friends walk right into the lion’s den on their own, either. So he felt obligated to announce his participation as well, but not without emphasising once more what he thought of the whole venture.

“I guess I don’t really have any other option than coming with you, too, then, do I? If I can’t stop you from walking right into a trap, at least I’ve got to keep an eye out for you two and make sure both of you return safely to Kells.”

Despite the fact that he was still angry at Ivar for his persistent opposition to his plan, Rohan was more than glad that the foreign prince had decided to join his little crusade, too. He extended his hand to his friend, which the latter took without hesitation.

“You won’t regret your decision to come with us. When this is over you’ll see that it was the right thing to do.”

“We’ll see about that. But now we should leave at once as long as we can still travel under the cover of darkness.” Rohan nodded his agreement to this and soon the three Mystic Knights left the castle on the king’s fastest horses, heading for Temra.

 

* * *

 

It had been fairly easy to knock out the guards standing at the gate of Temra Castle, but when the Mystic Knights proceeded on their way through the dark corridors, they couldn’t help but notice the surprisingly little resistance they were facing. Although it was still too early for most people to be awake, the halls felt more deserted than they should have been.

“Am I the only one who’s having a really bad feeling about this?” Ivar asked, his trident held ready to attack, while he kept searching the shadows for any signs of an ambush. Deirdre shrugged and tried to appease his worries, but only to a limited success.

“Who knows, maybe the castle guard is just short-staffed, so they don’t have enough men in the hallways at night. It has happened in Kells before.”

Ivar looked at her with raised eyebrows, clearly not agreeing with her explanation.

“You’re not serious, right? This is clearly a trap and if we’re not very cautious, Maeve will have us exactly where she wants us.”

Despite his friend’s warning, Rohan actually increased his speed as he headed along the corridor leading deeper into the castle. He didn’t want to curb his craving for revenge any longer and couldn’t wait to finally face the queen.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if the entire castle guard is waiting for us in the throne room, it won’t help Maeve to save her neck this time.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes at the blond man’s repeated rashness, a trait she definitely still had to get used to.

“But what if there’s no-one there? Do you want to break into her chamber and kill her in her sleep?” Her question came out much more angrily than she had meant to, but the princess was starting to seriously regret not having stopped Rohan from this venture to Temra in the first place. She had known that it was a bad idea, but the longer they were in the castle, the more she started to agree with Ivar, who was suspecting a trap behind every corner.

To her genuine surprise, Rohan actually seemed to share this assumption, only with a frighteningly different way of looking at things.

“No, I want the queen to look me in the eye when I kill her; but considering how easily we got into the castle and to this point, I’d say it’s more than likely that she’s waiting behind that door for us, half her army at her side.” He used his sword to point towards the large door at the end of the corridor, leading directly to the throne room.

Seeing as there was clearly no way of getting Rohan to turn back, Ivar and Deirdre exchanged worried glances and gripped their respective weapons more tightly. They approached the door silently, each of them with different anticipations, but none of them had actually expected what awaited them behind the solid wood.

The throne room lay dark and deserted before them, the fires and candles long since extinguished and only a faint light from the beginning dawn falling through the openings in the ceiling. Countless shadows were filling the room and obscured the corners, but it was still very obvious that the queen of Temra was not there.

“No! Maeve was supposed to be here! She must have known we were coming,” Rohan exclaimed furiously while walking further into the room. He looked around and let his anger out on a small stool which he kicked across the floor, making enough noise in the former silence to raise the dead.

“Rohan! You’re waking the entire castle. If we’re not careful, all of Maeve’s soldiers will soon be coming for us.”

“Then let them come! I’m not afraid to fight,” the Mystic Knight of Fire announced loudly, finally straining the princess’ patience to its limits.

“And neither am I, but I don’t want to be killed due to your stubbornness, either.” Deirdre’s eyes were practically shooting daggers at Rohan at this point, but the blond man didn’t seem to care for her objections very much. Instead he looked back at the corridor through which they had just come, musing absentmindedly.

“I still don’t understand why there doesn’t seem to be anyone inside the castle. It’s like we’ve been led here, but now Maeve is denying me the battle I’ve come for.”

“So it’s a confrontation you want, then?” Maeve’s voice suddenly pierced the air, making Rohan and the others spin around to face her, startled by her sudden appearance. She was standing at the entrance beside her throne, overlooking the room, completely unarmed. Not even her magical staff was anywhere in sight.

“Yes, I’m here to finish things between us. I’ll end the war like I should have done a long time ago.”

Maeve looked at Rohan amused, eyeing him up and down, and finally started to laugh at him. The blond man gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly and could hardly keep himself from attacking the queen right away.

“Don’t try to fool me or yourself, boy. We both know that you’re not here because of the war, but because you can’t live with the fact that you haven’t been able to save your friend’s life. Now you’re here to put the blame on me and clear your conscience, but believe me, it won’t work.”

Rohan had quickly had enough of the smug smile on her face and decided to put an end to the talking. However, he still didn’t want to attack an unarmed opponent.

“Call it whatever you want, Maeve, but I’ll only give you this one chance to get a sword and defend yourself, before I strike you dead.”

Despite the warning, though, the queen didn’t make any move to find herself a weapon, and only continued to look down at Rohan haughtily.

“Oh, don’t worry. I am protected,” she replied in her most disdainful voice, making the Mystic Knight of Fire unable to control his rage any longer.

“So be it, then.” He raised his sword and charged at her forcefully, but before the blade could connect with her head, a hidden figure suddenly emerged from the shadows and rushed to the queen’s side to parry the blow with his own weapon. The two movements cancelled each other out and for a moment the Mystic Knight and his new opponent stood with their swords crossed, the latter still out of Rohan’s line of sight. The blond man saw the wicked grin on Maeve’s face and knew that something was wrong, before he even knew what had just happened.

The long and slender blade that was still warding off his own caught Rohan’s attention first, but when his gaze followed the shiny metal to its bearer, his eyes widened in shock and he stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the sword of Kells in the process.

Behind him he could hear the surprised and equally shocked voices of Deirdre and Ivar, but he didn’t even register that the two were still in the room with him, as his full attention was fixed firmly on Maeve’s saviour.

The all too familiar looking man in front of him was clad completely in black elaborately wrought clothes, with a light leather armour above his shirt displaying the emblem of Temra. Rohan stared at him, his face white as a sheet, unable to even think straight for the moment.

“Angus?” Was all he managed to say, while the grip on his sword loosened.

“Hello, Rohan. It’s really about time that we finally meet again.” The man had Angus’ appearance and his voice, too, but his strange behaviour threw Rohan completely off and caused his mind to finally get back into gear. He raised his sword again and pointed it at the man in front him, his voice much steadier than he had expected.

“You can’t be him. Angus is dead, so who are you really?” His dark haired opponent smirked at him and slowly came down the few steps from the elevated part of the room. He let the tip of his long blade scrape over the rough stone floor, making Rohan cringe from the jarring noise.

“What, you’re telling me that you don’t even recognise your best friend anymore? Do you want me to prove that I’m really me?” His smile had a strangely unnerving effect on Rohan and caused him to back away further from the shorter man he refused to acknowledge as the same person he had known his entire life.

Contrary to his assertion, though, his opponent didn’t really seem to be bothered by Rohan’s denial; quite the opposite actually. He appeared to be getting a bizarre kind of satisfaction out of the other man’s overwhelmed behaviour.

“I could tell you how I saved your life only a week ago when we were fighting against the Sentinels,” the man explained calmly, not even a flicker of uncertainty tainting his words. “Or how I was wounded and shortly after fell to my near death while not even one of you tried to help me.”

For a short moment he looked over at Deirdre and Ivar who were staying out of the confrontation for now, and the princess swallowed hard when his gaze met hers. She had not a single doubt in her that this was the same man she had encountered earlier this night and also not a single doubt that he was really Angus. Because as much as it pained her, she knew that his anger was more than justified.

Focusing back on Draganta, Angus finally dropped all pretence and his expression became deadly serious. He pushed Rohan’s still raised sword aside with his own and advances menacingly on the taller man who was starting to believe him.

“I’ve told you before that I would defeat you in front of the princess and it looks like today’s the day, don’t you think?”

Rohan’s eyes widened as he stared back at Angus in a confusing mixture of relief and horror. It was really him, there was no use in denying it any longer. Only Angus could know about what had happened at the cliffs and about the little sparring match they had had before. Only Angus…

“You’re alive! But… but how is that even possible and what are you doing here in Temra?”

“I am serving the rightful ruler of this island,” Angus replied without hesitation, his voice darkening as he continued, “and believe me, it’s not thanks to you that I’m still alive.” Following these words, he suddenly struck at Rohan so unexpectedly that the taller man could only barely parry his attack. He stumbled backwards once more, unable to raise his own weapon against his friend, which Angus coldly used to his advantage.

Blow after blow came at the leader of the Mystic Knights, but he didn’t know what else to do than just ward off the attacks to defend himself.

The very one-sided fight went on for some time, while neither Deirdre nor Ivar dared to intervene. They just looked on as the two formerly best friends traded blows and realised with horror that Angus was really playing for keeps.

The princess suddenly cried out in shock as Rohan wasn’t able to parry a very well aimed strike and the blade of Angus’ sword slashed across his right forearm, nearly forcing his own weapon out of his hand. As it was obviously becoming increasingly hard for the blond man to wield the heavy sword of Kells with his injured arm, Deirdre felt that it was about time to leave. She looked over at Ivar, who was clearly sharing her opinion, and then raised her crossbow and pointed it at Angus. When she finally spoke up, she tried to put all her authority as princess of Kells into her words to conceal the confusion she really felt.

“I hate to interrupt, but we are leaving now. And if I were you I would think twice about trying to stop us.”

The smirk was back on Angus’ face and he looked at the princess intently, making her feel more than uncomfortable. While Ivar pulled Rohan back and towards the exit, Deirdre stayed behind to keep their new enemy in check.

The dark haired man eyed the mystic weapon in her hands rather amused and even raised an eyebrow questioningly before addressing her.

“Do you really think you’re prepared to use that against me?” She could tell that he was trying to taunt her, but despite being fully aware that they both knew the answer was ‘no’, Deirdre kept her crossbow steadily aimed at him.

When she was sure that both Ivar and Rohan had left the throne room, she started to slowly walk backwards to the exit, not letting Angus out of her sight the entire time. Instead of following her, however, he raised his hands in mock defeat and resumed his position at Maeve’s side.

Before she finally left the room, Deirdre’s eyes fell on Maeve’s face for only a split second, but she already knew that the evil triumphant smile of the queen would surely haunt her for a long time.

When the princess was gone from the throne room, Maeve looked at her new fighter with both pride and surprise in her eyes. She had enjoyed his fight against Rohan very much, especially the part when he had drawn blood, but she hadn’t expected him to let the Mystic Knights get away so fast.

“It was good to see Rohan finally meeting his match, but I didn’t think you’d let them escape that easily. Although, I guess toying with your prey first, that isn’t really a reprehensible trait at all.”

Angus, who seemed to be genuinely distraught for having failed his queen’s wishes bowed deeply to her and immediately offered to correct his error.

“I thought that after all those times the Mystic Knights have defied you, they don’t deserve such a quick and easy death. But if you want me to kill them now, I will follow them right away and make amends.”

The queen seemed to ponder his offer for a moment, but finally dismissed it.

“No, you’re right. When we launch our offensive tomorrow, I want them to witness the destruction of Kells. They’ll watch how I take their land right in front of their eyes and only then, when they’re beaten and on the ground I want you to take their lives.”

Angus bowed his head to her again and looked at the doorway through which his former friends had left, eager anticipation clearly evident on his face.

“As you wish, my Queen.”

 

**To be continued…**


	9. Long, Long Way From Home

_The wind was blowing through the trees, making the two young boys lying underneath a tall oak blink, whenever the leaves shifted and the sun shone directly into their eyes. They had both stretched out on the grass, their arms folded behind their heads, and were staring into the sky, just enjoying the time they were spending together, away from any grown-ups._

_“So, you’ll be living in the castle from now on?” the dark haired boy asked, slight apprehension in his voice. He tried to look over at his friend without moving too much and ended up squinting at him with his head leaned back._

_“Yeah, I guess. Cathbad told me to get my things ready and that he’ll pick me up later,” the blond boy answered, continuing to stare into the sky above._

_“Hm,” was the sole and not very elaborate response of his friend as he stretched out again, finally getting Rohan out of his absentminded state._

_“‘Hm’ what?” He had leaned up on one arm and was now looking at Angus rather annoyed._

_“Nothing. Well, now that I really think about it, it’s probably good you’re leaving. At least then I won’t have to look out for you all the time.” He focussed on one of the branches above to avoid looking at his friend, knowing that his eyes would probably tell he was lying._

_“You, looking out for me? Now who’s the one always getting us into trouble, hm? Clearly not me.” The blond boy responded to his friend’s apparent lack of interest, easily succeeding in making Angus equally mad._

_“Oh, yeah? Well, then you must be really glad to finally get away from me.”_

_“Maybe I am!” Rohan answered in a huff, lying back down and crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively._

_“Then I am, too!” Angus shouted angrily, but then went on to mimic his friend’s posture without saying another word._

_The silence between them continued for several minutes while both boys looked into the sky sulkily, every now and then glancing into each other’s direction without the other noticing. In the end it was Rohan who swallowed his pride first and spoke again, this time in a much softer and conciliatory voice._

_“You know I’m not really leaving, right? We’ll still be seeing each other, I just don’t know how often I can get away from my tasks in the castle. That’s all.” He waited for an answer, but Angus remained stubbornly silent._

_After some time, when Rohan had already resigned himself to the quiet, his friend could finally be heard again, intend to change the subject as quickly as possible._

_“It’s okay, I guess. So, I heard how that old guy said something about you having a great destiny in your future. You think that’s true?”_

_“His name’s Cathbad and he’s a druid, so I guess he knows what he’s talking about. But I’m not thinking about it that much, seeing as there’s not really anything I can do about it now.”_

_Angus seemed to ponder his response for a moment and then relaxed again, agreeing with his friend._

_“Well, if you’re lucky, that mark on your arm doesn’t mean anything. Then nothing will happen at all.”_

_Rohan raised an eyebrow at that and replied rather irritatedly._

_“What do you mean ‘If I’m lucky’? What’s so bad about having a destiny?”_

_“You know, as I see it, having a destiny just means that someone or something is going to make all your decisions for you. I wouldn’t want to have one; I’ll always decide myself what I want to do with my life,” Angus declared confidently, hurting Rohan’s pride in the process._

_“I’m not letting anyone decide for me!” the blond boy replied, glaring at this friend. “But Cathbad is going to teach me magic and living in the castle isn’t so bad, either, so why shouldn’t I become his apprentice?”_

_“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Angus answered, shaking his head slightly. “I just think that it would be smarter not to listen to people telling you about your future. Druid or not, they have no idea what they’re talking about.”_

_Rohan chuckled at his friend’s usual habit of speaking his mind without any caution and looked over at him, amused._

_“So you know better than the king’s advisor? That’s quite a bold claim, Angus, even for you.”_

_“No, I don’t. I don’t even have any idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, but that’s just how I like it.”_

_“Hm,” Rohan replied, deep in thought over Angus’ sentiment and advice. The two boys remained silent for some time again, although both much more comfortable than before._

_After a few minutes, Rohan finally spoke up again, glancing at the dark haired boy beside him rather uncertainly. His voice was much more sheepish than usual, surprising both of them._

_“But if I really get to do something important when I’m older, you will come with me, right?”_

_His friend didn’t hesitate a second to answer, eyes still fixed at the sky above._

_“Sure. Couldn’t let you go all by yourself, after all. You’d probably get lost or something,” Angus laughed, although his take on humour fell on deaf ears._

_“Hey!” Rohan replied angrily, not appreciating the joke at his expense._

_“Relax, ok? I’m just kidding. But if you ever get to go on a quest or something like that, I’ll accompany you. I guess that’s what friends are supposed to do. Plus, there might be some treasure involved,” he added with a mischievous grin, causing Rohan to roll his eyes at him._

_“Of course.” He tried to sound at least slightly hurt, but was really far too relieved to have straightened things out with Angus to even pretend not to be happy. So instead he just stretched out on the grass once more and enjoyed the moment, because he knew, later this day a whole new part of his life would begin._

 

* * *

 

Rohan couldn’t breathe. He hurried through the cold morning breeze towards a small wood in the distance alongside Deirdre and Ivar, pressing a hand on his forearm while the world was spinning around him. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what had just happened, but either the loss of blood from the wound on his arm or the pure shock from seeing his friend alive, but in the colours of Temra stopped him from managing even a single clear thought.

The grass under his feet was damp with morning dew, making it slippery, and Rohan tried his best not to stumble as they tried to reach the cover of the trees where they had left their horses, before any of the soldiers patrolling the grounds caught sight of them.

Without him noticing, Deirdre was suddenly at his side and reached for Rohan’s shoulder, startling him.

“Can you keep going? We could slow down if you want us to.”

The Mystic Knight of Fire shook his head in response, involuntarily making everything around him spin even more, and kept on running.

“No, it’s alright. I really don’t want to get into another fight right now, even if it would just be against Maeve’s troops. I don’t think I could even hold my sword properly.”

The princess looked at him worriedly, but only nodded in agreement while staying next to her friend as a precaution.   

Luckily, it didn’t take much longer for the knights to reach the small wood and as soon as they had passed the first few trees, Rohan pretty much collapsed against one of the massive trunks, gasping for air.

Searing pain coursed through his right arm and he looked down at the still heavily bleeding wound he had received by the sword of his best friend only a few minutes ago. The whole encounter felt so surreal, that Rohan was still hoping to be in the midst of a terrible nightmare and to wake up any second, but the all too real pain told him otherwise.

Deirdre didn’t know what to do. She was standing in front of the blond man, momentarily stunned, while trying to keep herself focused. The recent events just seemed to be crashing down on her, no matter how hard she tried to shake off the fact that the friend whose death she had been mourning over the past week had just attacked them and had even succeeded in injuring Rohan.

Her eyes were fixed on the blood running down his arm and it was only thanks to Ivar that she was finally able to pull herself together again.

“Rohan is losing a lot of blood; we have to take care of his wound immediately. But I’m afraid Maeve’s soldiers will find us here very quickly and I would rather like to avoid an encounter just now.”

The princess nodded in agreement, equally worried. She tore her gaze away from Rohan’s injury, unconsciously shaking slightly.

“You’re right. I think it’s best if one of us stays here and tends to Rohan’s arm, while the other goes and fetches our horses.”

“I’ll go. The faster we get back to Kells, the better. Although I fear that nothing can save this day anymore.” He looked into the direction of Temra Castle which they could still see through the treetops in the distance for a moment, before he turned around and hurried off deeper into the small forest where they had hidden the horses earlier.

Deirdre followed him with her eyes for a few seconds, before rushing back to Rohan, who was already looking worse for wear, and guiding him over to on old tree stump to sit down.

She looked him over, fear in her eyes, and tried to calm her thoughts, to focus on the task at hand and not let herself be distracted again by the events that had taken place in Maeve’s throne room earlier. Because Rohan needed her help right now and later would still be plenty of time to recover from the shock she’d received.

Deirdre took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment, thinking about what to do next. Then she reached behind herself and in a surprisingly swift motion removed her cape from its attachments on her shoulders and started to rip it apart before Rohan even realised what she was doing.

A large piece of the red fabric in hand, the princess finally kneeled down in front of her injured friend and grabbed  his right arm gently. The wound wasn’t too deep, but ran across a large part of his forearm and still bled profusely. Swallowing hard, Deirdre started to wrap the torn off part of her cape around Rohan’s arm tightly, trying to ignore his sharp intakes of breath at the increased pain.

She kept working quietly, but when she was nearly done, her patient suddenly broke the silence.

“Your hands are shaking,” he noted absentmindedly. Rohan’s gaze was fixed on Deirdre’s efforts to wrap his wound and so he didn’t see her weak smile as the princess replied.

“That surprises you? I still have no idea what I’m thinking or feeling right now. I never thought that one could be elated and horrified by the exact same experience or that the knowledge of something could make you want to laugh and cry at the same time.” She stopped and let her head hang for a moment, her eyes closed, but opened them again immediately as Rohan suddenly grasped her hands and looked directly at her.

“We’ll get him back. I couldn’t see his eyes very well in Maeve’s dark throne room, but I’m sure that Angus is under a spell just like Garrett had been back then. And we already know that we can free him from that.” Deirdre nodded, although not really looking convinced.

It was just that Angus’ change seemed so much more drastic than Garrett’s had been. The Prince of Reged had essentially still been himself, a pompous jerk at the time, even under Maeve’s control, but the Angus they had just met was like a completely different person. Vengeful, cold-hearted and cruel, nothing like the man she had known for so long.

Despite all her doubts and fears, however, she wanted to believe Rohan. Wanted to hope that Angus could easily be saved and everything would soon be back to normal. But a part of her knew that it would never be the same again; not after everything that had happened.

Tears came to her eyes and started to run down her face, causing Rohan to look at her surprised. He reached up to wipe the salty streaks from Deirdre’s cheek, but pulled back when he realised that his hands were stained with blood. Instead he just asked her in a gentle tone about the source of her sudden sadness.

“Don’t you believe that we’ll be able to bring him back? Deirdre, tell me why you’re crying.”

She shook her head negatively, before calming down enough to speak again.

“No, it’s just… the things he said, they’re all true. How can it ever be the same between us after we failed him so badly? How could he ever forgive us?”

Rohan didn’t know what to say to that. Deep down he had known ever since Angus’ fall that it had been his fault. He had been too occupied with his own fight against the Ice Lord to keep an eye out for his best friend even though the two of them had always fought best as a team, even more so than the rest of the Mystic Knights. Because he and Angus had fought by each other’s side all their lives, had known each other’s steps and moves in battle and had learned to rely on each other.

Angus had not let him down, not ever and not this time. When Rohan had been in danger, his friend had been there to help him, but not the other way around.

“I don’t know if he ever will, but at least we’ll be facing his true self then and not the anger and hatred Maeve has infused him with,” he finally replied, hoping that he was telling the truth.

The princess nodded after a brief moment of hesitation, clearly more optimistic this time, and stood up after having finished with the makeshift bandage around Rohan’s arm. She examined her work once more, satisfied with the result.

“That should hold until Cathbad can treat the wound properly,” she announced just in time as they suddenly heard the sound of hoofs on the leaf covered ground approaching. Deirdre turned around to see Ivar guiding their horses through the trees, then looked back at Rohan, uncertain.

“Do you think you can ride with your arm? Or we could, you know… share a horse.” It was a completely justified suggestion, so the princess wasn’t even sure herself why she was stammering all of a sudden. Rohan got up from his wooden seat, looking a lot healthier than before, and shook his head.

“No, I think as long as we don’t go too fast, I’ll be fine.” He went to meet Ivar halfway, Deirdre at his side who was still watching him carefully, just in case she had to steady her friend. Rohan seemed to have recovered for now, though, and when they had all mounted their horses, he took a last long look at the castle of Temra, before he and his friends rode off into the direction of Kells without another word.

His best friend, his brother was alive and although it pained him to have to leave him behind for now, Rohan swore to himself that he would not rest until Maeve’s spell was broken and Angus was free again. At whatever the cost.

  
**To be continued…**


	10. Shadow of the Day

It was still early in the morning, but the entire castle of Kells was already awake, with soldiers patrolling the grounds more alert than ever and the king himself pacing restlessly in the throne room. One of the servants had served his breakfast a while ago, but Conchobar was far too tense to even think about eating right now.

He didn’t recall for how long he had been in this state when suddenly an extremely harried looking soldier rushed through the entrance and quickly bowed to him before speaking.

“My King, you wanted to be informed as soon as the Mystic Knights return. They were just approaching the gate.” He kept his head down as the ruler of Kells left the throne room in a hury, too preoccupied to even bother with the messenger, but then followed behind to resume his post in the courtyard.

Conchobar stepped outside into the crisp morning air, just in time to see the Mystic Knights dismount their horses, and raised an eyebrow in slight surprise as he noticed how Ivar helped Rohan reach the ground safely. However, his worry as a father outweighed his concern for Draganta and so his focus shifted immediately to his daughter as he came closer.

“Deirdre! Where have you all been? I wake up and the entire castle is in an uproar about some thief and then the guards tell me that you three left in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you’re going. What happened?” He looked over all the Mystic Knights and only now realised the bad shape Rohan was really in. Alarm rang through his voice as he addressed the most important fighter of Kells, still trying to make some sense of the whole situation.

“Rohan, have you been injured? Did you get into a fight with Maeve’s soldiers?”

Deirdre, who was lacking any patience to deal with her father’s questions right now, took hold of Rohan’s healthy arm and pulled him towards the castle entrance.

“I guess you could call it that, but Rohan really needs to get inside and have Cathbad take a look at his wound. I’ll explain everything to you later, I promise.” With that, she turned her attention back to the blond man at her side, whose strength seemed to be leaving him rapidly, now that they had made it back to the safety of Kells castle. When he suddenly stumbled, Ivar was there immediately to take Rohan’s arm from the princess and sling it over his shoulder to support the weight of his friend.

Conchobar watched the Mystic Knights walk slowly into the castle together and couldn’t help but wonder whether he should feel angry for being dismissed by Deirdre so easily. Then again, he had seen her concern for Rohan all too clearly and knew his daughter well enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she had made sure that her friend was alright. So the king followed his warriors inside, he too, worried about Rohan’s condition.

 

* * *

 

After getting Rohan safely into Cathbad’s chamber, Ivar and especially Deirdre had only very reluctantly left their friend, but they knew he was in good hands and as hard as it was for them to talk about it, the king needed to be informed about what had transpired in Temra earlier.

The princess had mostly stayed in the background during the report, and had followed Ivar’s explanations only loosely, trying not to visualise their reunion with Angus too vividly, although the look on his face still haunted her despite her best efforts.

“And you are sure that it was really him and not just one of Maeve’s shapeshifter tricks?” the king asked cautiously as Ivar had finished, knowing how hard the unexpected encounter in their enemy’s castle must have been for all of the Mystic Knights, particularly for Rohan and his daughter. The young woman’s reluctance to talk about it just confirmed his assumption as Ivar answered once more.

“Absolutely! He is apparently under her control, just like Garrett had been before he became a Mystic Knight, but it was undeniably him; there is no doubt about that.”

Conchobar stood from his throne and went over to the window to look out onto the grounds, deep in thought and just as overwhelmed by this change of events as Deirdre and the others had been. He rubbed his chin absentmindedly while pondering the consequences this would have for Kells, until he finally turned around again, determination plainly visible in his features.

“Well, then our most important priority right now is clear; we have to get Angus back to Kells as quickly as possible. When Cathbad is finished with treating Rohan’s arm, he will immediately make the potion he used to free Garrett from Maeve’s spell, because I am sure now that Temra’s newest trump is unveiled, their next attack won’t be far away.” He sighed deeply and looked at his daughter in particular as he continued speaking.

“Every day I see the deep wounds Angus’ loss has caused this kingdom and especially his friends. I don’t know how Maeve has been able to save him, but I am glad that she has given us the unexpected chance to heal these wounds again.” The king fell silent for a moment and averted his eyes from Deirdre in light of what he was going to say next.

“But despite this opportunity, we cannot allow ourselves to underestimate the danger surrounding Angus’ return.

Maeve is not stupid; I’m sure she knows exactly what a harmful weapon she has created by turning Angus against us. He knows everything about the defences of Kells and of course has a very strong psychological advantage, which he seems to knows how to use quite effectively as Rohan has already witnessed first hand. And I fear now that his mystic weapon is in his possession again, he has both the combat strength and the armour of a Mystic Knight at hand, making him an even more dangerous opponent.”

“But he’s not our enemy!” Deirdre exclaimed almost angrily at her father’s warnings. The king shook his head sadly, before trying to make his daughter understand the seriousness of the situation.

“Believe me, I know that, but in his own mind he is, and I don’t think you will be able to get around fighting him. I’m not telling you to attack him uncompromisingly; I’m just saying that you should be prepared to defend yourself and this kingdom, because Angus is most likely not going to have any inhibitions to strike hard. Don’t forget that it is your first duty to protect Kells, not your friends.”

Deirdre stared at her father incredulously, not wanting to believe what he had just told her. Her voice was constricted with anger as she finally answered him.

“Oh, I know what my duty is, trust me, but if you think that I will sacrifice my friend’s life for the safety of Kells, then you don’t know me half as well as you think you do.” She glared at the king for another moment, before turning around and storming out of the throne room, furious.

 

* * *

 

  
His voice heavy with emotions, Rohan had told Cathbad everything that had happened the night before, from the theft of the mystic weapon and his uncontrollable anger at Maeve to the moment when he had looked into his best friend’s cold eyes and how he had received the wound on his arm his former teacher was now still busy stitching up.

Silence had settled over the small chamber, while the druid was trying his best not to hurt Rohan any more than necessary as he was using a sharp needle to sew his wound carefully.

“So… Angus did this to you?” he mused quietly, knowing of course that Rohan was telling the truth, but having a hard time processing it.

“Yes. I couldn’t believe it at first, either, that he is really alive, but he knew things, things that only Angus could know about.” Rohan broke off, still weary from the blood loss and shock alike, and stayed silent for a moment to gather himself. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded even more choked up than before.

“I couldn’t fight him, Cathbad, I _couldn’t_. If it hadn’t been for Deirdre and Ivar, he might have killed me, but I just wasn’t able to fight back. All I did was try to ward off his attacks, and even that not very successfully as you can see.” He moved his arm unconsciously to emphasise his point, but immediately cringed and hissed in pain as he thereby caused the druid to jab him with the needle.

“Hold still, will you?” Cathbad ordered strictly as he took hold of Rohan’s arm. “I am nearly done.” He continued to work in silence for a few more moments, before speaking again, in a much softer voice this time, while looking directly at his former apprentice.

“I know that you want me to give you an advice on this matter, Rohan, but I am not sure if I have one for you. I will mix the potion that should be able to free Angus from Maeve’s control if she has used the same spell again, but I can’t tell you how to approach an encounter with him. After all, it is _your_ family this concerns, not mine.” Rohan looked at the druid in surprise for a second, but then smiled slightly.

“Yes, that’s what he is, my family.”

Cathbad rested a hand on the blond man’s shoulder and looked into his eyes steadily.

“Rohan, I know this situation isn’t easy for you or anyone, but in the past you have always done well by listening to your instincts and your heart and I think you would be well advised to trust in them now, too. Have faith and when you face Angus again, you will be ready. You will know what to do.”

This time Rohan’s smile broadened and he nodded in appreciation of the druids help.

“Thank you, Cathbad, for always guiding me on my way. Even when you say that you don’t really have an advice at all.” He laughed shortly at that, but broke off as he suddenly had to yawn from exhaustion.

Looking down at his former apprentice with concern, the old druid went over to his bed in the corner and removed the scrolls and parchments he had put there earlier.

“You still look very tired, Rohan. You really should lie down, while I start to work on the potion. This could take some time and you’re no use to anyone in this exhausted state.”

The leader of the Mystic Knights wanted to argue that he was fine and didn’t need to rest, but he had to admit, although grudgingly, that he was thoroughly depleted.

“Alright, but I’ll only lie down for a few minutes. I still want to talk to the king about what happened,” he insisted, but before Cathbad had even finished gathering all the ingredients for the potion from his various shelves, a soft snoring could already be heard from the blond man resting on the bed.

 

* * *

 

When Deirdre entered Cathbad’s chamber, Rohan was still asleep on the bed in the corner while the druid was occupied with mixing different powders and fluids at his table, but he interrupted his work for a moment to look at her. The young woman was still angry after her confrontation with her father, and was slightly taken aback when she realised that Rohan was sleeping, as she had wanted to talk to him. It took her a moment to gather herself, but before she had calmed down enough to address the druid silently, to not wake up her friend, Cathbad beat her to it.

“Can I help you, Deirdre?”

“What?” she asked, somewhat surprised. “Oh, uhm, no, I’m afraid not. I had wanted to speak with Rohan, but I guess he really needs some rest, so it can wait.”

The druid looked at her intently, easily seeing how distressed the young woman was. He motioned to a chair for her to sit down as he answered her.

“Or you could simply talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you, Princess.”

Deirdre followed his invitation gladly, but ignored the seat and instead began pacing the room.

“You see, I’ve just been talking with Ivar and my father about what happened, and – Rohan told you, right?” she interrupted herself and looked at Cathbad with slightly raised eyebrows, causing him to halt in his work once more.

“Yes, he did. And I must admit that when he first said that Angus is still alive, I thought he was hallucinating due to his severe blood loss. I had never even dared to hope this was possible, but now I have faith in you and Rohan to return Angus safely back home.”

“And so do I. But my father, as much as he certainly hopes for it as well, has tried to prepare me to… I don’t know…” her voice faltered as she moved her arms in a helpless gesture. “To do everything to prevent Angus from harming Kells; no matter the cost...” She broke off completely now and finally let herself sink onto the wooden chair Cathbad had offered her earlier. The druid looked at her sadly for a moment, before abandoning his work completely for now and sitting down on a stool opposite from her. He glanced at Rohan to make sure he was still asleep and then began to speak very quietly.

“Judging from what I have gathered of Rohan’s narration, Angus is completely under Maeve’s control at the moment. If you have to fight him again, he will not hold back. One word from his queen and he will not hesitate to strike at you or anybody else. I know that you want to save him, we all do, but you will have to ask yourself what you’ll do if Angus’ life stands against Rohan’s or somebody else’s.”

He looked at his former apprentice once more, but the young man was still sleeping peacefully. Cathbad sighed sadly, before continuing.

“Rohan is a great warrior and has more than earned the name of Draganta, but I fear that he might not be strong enough to stand up against Angus in battle. Losing him once has already nearly destroyed him, he would not be able to live with himself if his best friend should die by his own sword.”

Deirdre stared at the druid in shock, completely shaken by his ruthless candour. After a few moments she had gathered her thoughts enough to speak again, although hesitantly.

“And you think I would? That… that I could do that and just be fine?”

Cathbad shook his head decisively, clearly feeling misunderstood, and tried to take Deirdre’s hand, but the princess pulled back from him.

“Of course not. But as the future Queen of Kells it will always be on you to make the hard choices, because your first duty is…”

“I know, I know; to protect this kingdom. I heard,” she interrupted him angrily, rising from her seat and heading towards the door. Before she could leave, however, Cathbad held her back once more.

“I pray to Dagda with all my heart that it will not come to this.”

The princess let her head sink for a second, but didn’t turn back.

“I know. I’m just not sure if prayers will be enough to help us now.” She walked out of the chamber, leaving a very troubled druid behind, who returned to the potion he had been making earlier, deep in thought. He just hoped that it would prove to be the easy solution they were all counting on.

 

* * *

 

With one thing Conchobar had already been right; the day wasn’t even over yet, the sun just setting in the west, and a large army of Temra was already heading for Kells Castle. A scout from the border had alerted the king quite early and so there had been time to get several reinforcement units into the castle to strengthen the troops and man the defence works.

With the enemy approaching in the distance, Rohan was busy checking the preparations one more time, while Deirdre and Ivar were still looking over the defence plans they had developed earlier with the help of some of the higher ranking soldiers.

Despite the looming danger, the princess was still finding it hard to concentrate, as she couldn’t get the arguments with her father and Cathbad out of her head. Now that Maeve’s army was getting closer, it was only a matter of time until she would come face to face with Angus again; in fact only a matter of very little time.

“Deirdre, are you even listening to me?” Ivar looked at her expectantly, having been talking to her for quite some time now, without the young woman noticing.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry Ivar, what did you say? I’ve been deep in thought, I guess.”

“Yes, I noticed that. I just wanted to know what you think of these troop formations one of the commanders suggested.” He held up a piece of parchment to her, but Deirdre was spared from getting her mind back to battle tactics as suddenly a soldier stormed into the throne room and came to an abrupt halt as he saw the two Mystic Knights. He seemed rushed and a little out of breath, but took the time to bow his head to Deirdre before speaking.

“My Princess, I bring news from the Temra forces.”

“Speak soldier, we need to know what we’re up against.” The red haired woman looked at him eagerly, instantly focused again.

“General Torc is leading an army of at least three hundred men against us and they march very quickly so they will be here soon. They didn’t bring heavy siege engines, only a ram and ladders, but…” he broke off shortly, a troubled look in his eyes as he continued to report his observations, “but I’m pretty sure that I heard the dragon Tyrune in the distance.”

“And Angus? What seems to be his role in the attack?” Ivar finally asked what Deirdre had been waiting to hear, but was too afraid to ask herself.

“Angus? He is not with the troops,” the soldier replied matter-of-factly. Now it was the princess’ turn to question him.

“What? Are you sure; he has to be!”

But the man shook his head negatively.

“No, believe me I have seen the entire corps and he was not there. Now, could you tell me where the king is, I had been ordered to report to him and was actually expecting to find him here.”

“He and Rohan are in the courtyard, inspecting the guards.” Irritated by the soldier’s surprising report, Ivar answered very briefly, but the man didn’t seem to mind and excused himself.

When the two Mystic Knights were alone again, silence settled over the throne room for a moment, before the foreign prince finally voiced his confusion.

“Why isn’t Angus with them? If there is one advantage Maeve has over us right now, it’s him, and then she doesn’t even send him along with her attack? Something is definitely not right about this.”

Deirdre nodded in agreement while already having an idea on how to get an explanation for this.

“Yes, I really have a very bad feeling about this. We should send someone to search for him.”

However, the look on Ivar’s face clearly showed his disapproval of the princess’ plan.

“The sun is already setting. Not even our best scouts could find him in the growing darkness, especially not since we have no idea where he might be.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about one of our scouts,” Deirdre replied with a small grin on her lips before she looked up into the air and started shouting. “Aideen! Are you here somewhere?” And sure enough, after only a few seconds the little sprite was flying in front of them, looking at her much taller friends sadly.

“Princess, Ivar! I have heard what happened to Angus; is there anything I can do to help you?”

Deirdre smiled as her small friend appeared and was very grateful for her immediate support.

“Yes, actually there is something. We can’t leave the castle because Temra’s army is going to be here soon, but we have to know where Angus is right now. Our scout said that he is not with Maeve’s troops and I fear that this is not going to be a good thing. Please find him, Aideen.”

The sprite nodded resolutely and already readied herself to fly off.

“Of course! Don’t worry, I’ll have him found in no time.” With that she exited through the next window and vanished into the distance, leaving her human friends behind to prepare for the imminent attack.

 

* * *

 

The sun had vanished behind the trees about two hours ago and night had fallen across the lands of Kells and Temra when a troop of thirty purple clad soldiers approached the border from the north, carrying torches beside their usual weapons and shields.

They were led by a single man marching in front of them, the beautiful battle sword of Temra tied to one side of his belt, the Terra Sling Mace to the other. His face was impassive and calm, as he was completely focused on his task at hand; leading a well-aimed strike into the enemy’s territory while Kells’ army and the Mystic Knights were busy defending the castle from the much larger assault taking place almost simultaneously.

Angus smiled faintly as he marvelled at the fact that there was finally a task for which Torc was actually qualified; being the head of a diversionary attack which wasn’t even supposed to produce any results.

Of course he trusted his queen’s judgement without limitations, but somehow he couldn’t understand why she had ever given her troops into the older man’s control.

Then again, Conchobar had trusted him once, too, so maybe Torc had really been a great warrior and strategist in the past. Only that was a long time ago and Angus had no intentions of accepting the status quo in Temra unless his queen strictly ordered him to. And the fact that she hadn’t was more than enough encouragement for him to try and seize the spot of her first general.

His thoughts were interrupted however, as he suddenly saw a couple of lights shining through the trees in the distance. They had reached their destination, the small border village that would fall under the control of Temra tonight, one way or another.

He thought about stopping and going through their orders again with his unit, but he quickly reminded himself that he didn’t need to. These men were the best soldiers in Queen Maeve’s army, well trained and reliable and since he had picked each of them himself, he trusted them to do their job. So they kept going until they could see the first huts in the darkness.

The village in front of them lay dark and silent, only a few torches were lit to illuminate the paths, but they didn’t emanate even nearly enough light for anyone to spot the approaching enemies, had they wanted to stay undiscovered.

The area seemed to be completely deserted as all the villagers were already in their homes, sleeping or preparing for the night, but Angus stayed highly alert anyway. His eyes went everywhere to see if their presence had been detected, but so far everything was silent.

He knew that one word from him would change this in a second and the thought suddenly made him smile maliciously as he imagined the screams that would soon pierce the night. One word and a war like Kells had never seen one before would finally begin.

“Go! And get everyone!” he finally ordered quietly. The soldiers drew their swords and spread out into the village; those carrying torches pushed them into the ground, forming a circle in the village centre, while the others went straight for the various huts.

Angus followed them slowly, the battle sword of Temra in his hand, as the expected screams started to fill the air. One after the other, his men invaded the huts and dragged the villagers outside, most of them already in their sleeping clothes, and gathered them within the circle of torches in the centre.

Struggles and small fights could be seen and heard everywhere, but most of the people were simple peasants and craftsmen who didn’t know much about fighting, let alone own a weapon. The ones who were stupid enough to put up a stronger resistance wound up with a broken nose or a dislocated shoulder as the soldiers forced them along.

Once inside the circle of torches, only a few guards were needed to keep the villagers in check, as the men, women and children were too terrified to put up much of a struggle anyway.

When Angus approached them and stepped into the light of the torches, some of them stared at him, shock and confusion on their faces, but he didn’t pay them any attention as he continued to watch the progression of the raid.

Only a few minutes after starting the invasion, each and every one of the formerly peacefully sleeping villagers was herded together and surrounded by Temra soldiers who were watching them carefully. Up to this point none of the attackers had even said as much as a single word to the people of Kells, frightening them even more.

“Who speaks for this village?” Angus suddenly asked in a voice almost too calm, while slowly walking past the people kneeling on the ground, completely unmoved by the terrified looks on most of their faces or by the women pulling their children closer in fear. After a few seconds of strained silence, a man with blond, thinning hair hesitantly raised his hand and tried to stand up before being pushed back to the ground by one of the Temra soldiers.

“I… I do. I preside over the village council.” His voice trembled, but he faced Angus without flinching as the latter approached him and came to a halt directly in front of him.

The villager looked up at the enemy soldier and now that he could get a better look at him, a strange sense of familiarity overcame him, but before he could really place it, Angus finally spoke again.

“From this moment on, this village and the surrounding land belongs to Temra. You and your people can stay here, unimpeded, _if_ you pledge your allegiance to Queen Maeve,” he announced loudly, actually speaking to everyone present. However, the kneeling man in front of him seemed to be less corporative than the leader of the soldiers had hoped he would be.

“But how could we? King Conchobar is our lord and he’s always been a just and generous ruler. His army and the Mystic Knights regularly defend us against Maeve’s attacks.”

Angus’ eyes narrowed dangerously and he leaned down menacingly to the older man, looking straight into his eyes.

“But they’re not here now, or are they? You should better choose your next words wisely or I’ll have to demonstrate how the Kingdom of Temra reacts to a refusal.”

Swallowing hard, the man from the village council summoned up every bit of bravery left inside of him and managed not to waver as he spoke up again.

“You’ll have to do that, then, because we will not join Temra. And once the Mystic Knights find out about this, they will avenge our deaths.”

Angus raised an eyebrow at that and nearly laughed at the man’s rather convincing display of defiance.

“Your deaths? Don’t be melodramatic!” he remarked almost amiably, while grabbing the kneeling man’s arm. He kept eye contact the entire time while slowly tightening his grip around the other’s wrist and then suddenly pulled it back so forcefully that a sickening snap could be heard throughout the village centre, followed by the man’s anguished cry.

“I’m not going to kill my Queen’s future subjects. I just wanted to give you a chance to save your village.” Angus let go of the village chief’s broken wrist, but didn’t take his eyes off of him as he ordered the soldiers to proceed.

“The torches! And make sure you don’t miss anything.” About half of the troop left their posts around the villagers and started to set the huts and stables on fire, while pleads and shouts erupted from the men and women on the ground, who were forced to witness their homes and goods being destroyed.

The remaining soldiers had to force several of their captives back down as the flames around them started to grow and their resistance only lessened when every thatched roof, every wooden fence and every hut was finally ablaze.

After a few minutes, the villagers’ protests had died down to cries and silent sobs while they watched their former lives being consumed by the flames. Angus walked around them quietly, knowing that this was his first victory on his way to conquer the land that rightfully belonged to his queen.

The village and the surrounding stretch of land were irrelevant, but the fear and terror in these people’s eyes would soon spread into every citizen of Kells, and the next villages he set foot in would beg to join Temra before they had to suffer the same fate.

The flames around them cast an eerie glow on Angus’ face as he watched them intently, but as much as he enjoyed his success, he knew that it was time to move on. The reinforcements from Torc’s troops would soon arrive and he wanted to get his own men to secure the new line of the border as fast as possible, before any _interruptions_ occurred.

Turning around to the frightened people still cowering on the ground, he slowly drew his sword from its sheath and approached them, causing those closest to him to try and back away, albeit futilely.

Instead of hurting anyone with it, however, he rammed the battle sword of Temra into the ground right in front of the petrified villagers.

“By fire and sword. Tell everyone that this is the way they’re going to lose their land and their homes if they’re foolish enough to reject the rightful dominion of Queen Maeve. And that anyone who wants to defy Temra will have to stand up to _me_ first.” He paused for a moment to look into the faces before him and found them sufficiently shocked and terrorised.

“And now… run!”

 

**To be continued…**


	11. Stranglehold

“Attack the castle!” Torc bellowed at his troops as they had finally reached their destination and assumed battle formation. “And the first one who retreats will spend the next months in Queen Maeve’s dungeon, living only of the rats he catches, so you better keep fighting until I order something else.” Temra’s general was in an exceptionally bad mood and his soldiers knew better than to provoke him any further, so they charged at the enemy’s castle with determination.

Torc rode along with the assault troop, inwardly still indignant at his assignment. _A diversionary attack?_ He was Maeve’s general, the leader of her forces and all of a sudden _this_ was the only mission she assigned him with?

That cocky little Mystic Knight Angus was stealing his position from right under his nose and so far Torc hadn’t been able to do anything against it.

However, today he would prove that he was still the great warrior his queen had always trusted in. He would not simply attack the castle as part of a ruse, but to conquer it, then his queen would present _him_ with the battle sword of Temra, an honour that that thief Angus couldn’t even dream to be worthy of, despite her having handed it to him. The sword was supposed to be only in the hands of the leader of Temra’s troops, and while Maeve had assured Torc that this was still his position, she had claimed it to be necessary as a token of Angus’ association with Temra and to mark him as her personal warrior.

As he was getting closer to the castle, Torc let the anger rush through him, but instead of getting distracted by it, he directed it at his enemies. After all, had it not been for the constant interferences of the Mystic Knights, nobody would ever have been able to question his position and status. They had put far too many obstacles in his way already and now that he even had to tolerate one of them in his own territory, his hatred for the obnoxious little pests had grown even further.

“Look out for their spears and hurry to break through the gate!” the general ordered his soldiers while riding around the units to keep an overview of the attack. When he was sure that it wouldn’t take his troops much longer to get inside the castle walls, he rode a little distance away and waved his arm in the direction they had come from. It was time for their strongest weapon now.

“Tyrune!” A few seconds later, the large three-headed dragon appeared from behind a distant hill and flew straight at the castle, his temper as fierce as ever. The soldiers on top of the walls screamed in panic and most of them deserted their posts as the creature headed towards them.

Torc smirked as he watched how the unit of his men at the gate got the ram in position and smashed it against the wooden portal repeatedly while above them the dragon was starting to spit fire at their enemies’ position. He knew that it was only a matter of time, before Pyre would appear, too, so they had to move fast to seize their chance. Luckily it wasn’t long until he heard the anticipated breach of the gate and, calling for the troops to follow him, he rode into the courtyard, brandishing his sword.

Smoke from a few burning haystacks filled the area and Torc’s horse nearly buckled as he moved it through the fighting groups of soldiers with the sounds of swords clashing against each other surrounding them. It was hard to orientate within the moving mess of smoke and people and, doing his best to keep his mount still, Torc tried to make his way to the outskirts of the battle, pushing both friends and enemies aside in the process.

Until suddenly an invisible blow like a shockwave knocked him right out of the saddle and sent him crashing to the ground.

“Torc! I haven’t seen you in a while, but really, don’t you know it’s impolite to go like a bull at the gate? You should apologise for intruding and then leave as quickly as that horse of yours can carry you.”

The leader of Temra’s troops still lay on his back and looked up to see Rohan standing above him with the tip of his blade to his throat, and Deirdre in the background holding her crossbow. The general tried to reach out to his own sword which had been knocked out of his hand during his fall, but Rohan pushed it aside with his foot while keeping his eyes steadily on his enemy.

“If I were you I wouldn’t even think about trying anything stupid like that.” He put his weapon directly against Torc’s skin, making the man squirm from the contact.

“You call your men back and answer me one question, then I’ll spare you once more. Not that you have earned yourself any mercy, but I’ve got more important things on my mind right now,” Rohan ordered calmly. Just as he was sure that Torc would cooperate, though, a loud roar and the sound of a massive collision above them distracted him and he looked up to see that Pyre had arrived and was now engaging in battle with Tyrune.

The red dragon had crashed into his arch nemesis and now both of the massive creatures were falling to the ground, luckily right outside the walls of Kells Castle, in a tangle of scaly wings and razor sharp claws.

The fighting inside the courtyard had stopped for a moment while all the soldiers were staring at the impressive impact above and it was all the distraction Torc needed to get away from Rohan’s sword and grab his own to resume the fight.

“Not so fast, Draganta! I’m not here to give up that easily,” he exclaimed loudly while facing the Mystic Knight of Fire determinedly. Then he charged forward and swung his sword forcefully, but Rohan didn’t have much trouble to ward off his attack. They exchanged blows for some time while Deirdre and Ivar directed their attention towards the other soldiers of Temra who of course weren’t any match for their mystic weapons and armour.

And if having to fight the two knights hadn’t been enough to destroy any fighting spirit left in the purple clad troops, the events occurring outside of the castle certainly were. An earth shaking roar suddenly rang out, followed by Tyrune rising into the air rather clumsily and flying off into the direction of Temra. The dragon had lost, sealing the outcome of this battle at last.

Despite this, Torc still attacked his opponent with surprising ferocity, though it didn’t change the fact that he was no match for Rohan’s strength and combat skills. He kept fighting, but when most of his soldiers had already turned tail and fled, Temra’s general was once more separated from his weapon as his opponent forced it out of his hand. They stood eye to eye and Rohan directed his sword at him threateningly, tired of his enemy not accepting his defeat.

“Give it up, Torc! You can’t win here today, so just tell me where Angus is and why he isn’t with you and your men and I’ll let you go.” Torc let out a grunt at the mention of his newest ally and laughed at Rohan humourlessly.

“Oh, Queen Maeve had a different assignment for your friend. Believe me, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“But why did she even send you, then, Torc? She must have known you would just lose again…” Rohan’s voice trailed off as he finally started to grasp the connection between Torc’s unusually persistent attack and Angus’ mysterious absence from it.

“Unless Maeve didn’t care. If all she wanted was just to keep us occupied here at the castle, then sending you with her army and Tyrune was the perfect distraction.”

“Took you long enough to figure out our plan, Draganta,” Torc smirked, trying his best to mask his defeat, “but your destruction has already begun; you just don’t know it yet.”

Deirdre and Ivar had been watching the exchange intently and the princess now approached the older man, not really buying his smug attitude.

“You’re saying ‘our plan’, but I can’t believe that you actually had any say in the decision to come here. A _diversion_ , that’s all Maeve trusts you with these days, Torc?” She could see that her words were having the desired effect as Temra’s general stared back at her with loathing in his eyes.

“It seems as if now that Angus is fighting for Temra, you’re slowly but surely becoming obsolete to her.” Her opponent raised an eyebrow at that, both irritated and confused by Deirdre’s seemingly pointless statements.

“Are you honestly trying to mock _me_ with the fact that _your_ friend is fighting against you now or where is this going?” Torc asked, more than angry, unknowingly voicing the same question Rohan and Ivar had at the moment.

Despite that, Deirdre kept her calm and gave her best to sound as friendly as possible when she spoke again.

“No, I’m just assuming that you might not be as happy about the way things are turning out as it would seem at first.”

Torc nearly laughed at this, but it was obvious that the princess had struck a nerve in him.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We will win this war at last.”

“Really? And then what? If Angus brings the victory to Temra, don’t you think that that will earn him the position of ‘general’? Well, but maybe it won’t be so bad. I’m sure Maeve will still have work for you as a servant or maybe an errand boy.”

“How dare you!” Torc roared and nearly charged at Deirdre had Rohan not still been pointing his blade at him. In the end the older man had to back off and settle for just continuing to glower at her.

“I’ve been Queen Maeve’s general and the leader of her troops for over ten years now and this is not going to change just because she has turned that thief Angus into her puppet. After all, I _chose_ to serve her and her Majesty knows how important loyalty is.”

Rohan, who had caught up to what Deirdre was trying to do, lowered his sword a few inches and addressed Torc carefully, to not aggravate his already foul mood.

“Really? But it does look as if she’s already handing the dirty work to you and Deirdre is right, should Angus be more successful in his attacks against Kells than you have been in all these years, I don’t believe that loyalty will mean that much to Maeve.”

Torc pondered this prediction for a while, until he seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, albeit grudgingly. His stance got less aggressive and he crossed his arms in front of his chest as he spoke again.

“Well, let’s pretend for the moment that I might agree with you on this; what does that change? Your friend fights for Queen Maeve now, nothing I can do about that.”

“But maybe _we_ can. Cathbad mixed one of his potions to free Angus from the spell Maeve put on him. We just need to get him to drink it,” Rohan answered truthfully, hoping that Torc’s fear of being replaced was really strong enough to get him to cooperate with them.

“And I suppose that is where I come in, right? You want me to pour it in his drink unnoticed so you can finally have your heart-warming group reunion. Now isn’t that sweet?” Torc taunted them, smirking, but the leader of the Mystic Knights knew that he was just stalling to give his agreement.

“And you’ll make sure that Angus escapes from Temra unharmed, or Maeve will find out about your part in his sudden recovery,” Rohan declared firmly, while looking straight into the general’s eyes. Torc returned the stare for a few moments which felt like an eternity, until he finally extended his hand to his declared enemy.

“Alright. I’ll do it, so things can get back to normal for all of us; but I have to warn you that your potion might not be able to break the spell. Mider seemed to be very sure that no magic could break Maeve’s control over Angus after she put so much effort and energy into forging it.”

Rohan was clearly unsettled by this, but Deirdre stepped next to him, untying the small pouch she had bound around her belt a few hours ago, having expected Angus to be a part of the assault.

“Cathbad knows what he’s doing. I’m sure that this will work, and if not, we’ll just figure out something else.” She handed it to Torc, but as he reached for the bag, the princess pulled it back once more, glaring at him angrily.

“And you better don’t try to pull any tricks on us, because believe me, this is not a matter that we take lightly.”

Grinning, the leader of Temra’s troops gave Deirdre a mock bow, before he finally took the pouch and walked over to his horse which was still wandering aimlessly inside the courtyard.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I want your friend out of Temra just as badly as you do, even if for different reasons. As soon as he’s back in the castle I’ll make sure that he takes a huge sip of this.” He held the pouch up for a moment and then stored it inside his saddlebag, but as he was about to place his foot in the stirrup, Rohan’s voice made him halt again.

“But where is Angus now, Torc? Where has Maeve sent him?” The Mystic Knight asked, remembering the threat his friend was still posing to Kells at the moment.

“Oh, I’m afraid you’ll have to find that out for yourself. I’ll make sure Angus drinks your potion, but I really don’t mind if he wreaks a little havoc in Kells until then. Now if you’ll excuse me, my queen is waiting for my report.” With that, the general mounted his horse and left the castle of Kells at a fast pace, leaving three chagrined Mystic Knights behind.

“Torc!” Rohan shouted after him, but Deirdre rested a hand on his arm to calm him down.

“Don’t worry, we have already sent someone to find Angus,” she assured him, only to be met with a confused look.

“Who?” the blond man asked, but the princess didn’t even have time to answer as all off a sudden a tiny voice sounded from above.

“Rohan, Princess! I’ve found Angus just like you asked me to.” Aideen flew above them, startling all of them, but mostly the Mystic Knight of Fire, as he hadn’t known anything about her involvement.

“That’s great news, Aideen, and as always you have the most amazing timing.”

The sprite blushed slightly at the praise, but immediately became serious again when she answered Deirdre.

“Thank you, Princess, but I actually think that it took me too long to find him and come back here. I saw how Angus was leading a unit of Temra soldiers across the border and into Kells. They were heading towards one of the villages there and I fear that they will have reached it by now.” Aideen hesitated a moment and looked at Rohan, apparently worried how he would react to the news.

“He seemed very determined and I’m afraid that something really bad is going to happen there, so you guys have to hurry.”

Rohan looked over at Deirdre, his face grim, but confident.

“Cathbad made more of that potion, right?”

“Yes, there are still several vials in his chamber.”

“Good, because we’ll take Pyre and get to this village before Angus does something he’ll really regret once we’ve saved him.”

The princess nodded, but then looked over at Ivar, slightly torn.

“But Pyre can’t carry us all.”

The Mystic Knight of Water shook his head, seeing the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s alright, you two go and I’ll catch up with you as fast as I can. We can’t afford to lose any more time to stop Angus and if anyone might still be able to get through to him, it’s the two of you.” Ivar assured his friends. Rohan smiled gratefully and laid a hand on his shoulder in a thankful gesture.

“We’ll do our best to have things sorted out by the time you arrive, but you better hurry, just in case.”

Once Deirdre had picked up another vial of Cathbad’s potion, she and Rohan hurried out of the gate and immediately spotted Pyre on the field beside the castle wall. He looked a little battered and bruised, but still greeted them with a triumphant roar as they approached. Worried for his scaly friend, the Mystic Knight of Fire walked slowly closer to him and laid a hand gently on his massive wing, which the creature then folded at his side to allow the two humans to climb onto him.

“I hope Tyrune didn’t cause Pyre any serious wounds,” Deirdre wondered aloud, her concern showing as well, but Rohan reassured her as he extended his hand for the princess to help her up.

“Don’t worry, I would know if something was wrong. I’m sure Pyre is fine or he wouldn’t let us ride on his back in the first place.”

As soon as they were both sitting on the dragon’s back, the red and golden animal spread its wings and rose into the air, flying north in the direction of the village Aideen had seen Angus heading towards. Deirdre gripped the small bag tied around her waist tightly once more, making sure the potion was still secured safely. Maybe if they managed to get Angus to drink it tonight, they wouldn’t even need any help from Torc of all people. She hated the thought of owing anything to the man who had betrayed her father and her kingdom all those years ago, so she would do everything in her power to end Angus’ forced attacks against them now for good.

 

* * *

 

The scene in front of them was horrible. The small border village they had just arrived at was burning brightly and large columns of smoke were rising into the night sky, which had forced them to land with Pyre a couple hundred yards away.

In the centre of the village its inhabitants were cowering on the ground, surrounded by Temra soldiers and just as the two Mystic Knights came closer, one of them turned from watching the flames back to his prisoners. Or at least Rohan and Deirdre had thought that it was just one of Maeve’s men, until they recognised his voice; colder and more terrifying than they had ever heard it before, but unmistakeably Angus’.

“And now… run!” These last words sent a shiver down Deirdre’s spine and she watched in shock as the sparely clothed and petrified villagers started to run away in terror, unaware of them, the help that had come too late, deeper into the territory of Kells.

She looked up at Rohan who was staring at Angus, an unreadable expression on his face, until he suddenly moved forward without even bothering to talk to his companion first.

He drew his sword as the soldiers became aware of his presence, but none of them attacked him as they knew he had not come for them.

“Angus!”

The dark haired man paused in his movement for a second as he heard the all too familiar voice and then resumed to pull the battle sword of Temra out of the ground before him, where he had pushed it in just a few moments ago to emphasise his point. When he finally turned around slowly, he was actually grinning at his former friend.

“You’re here pretty fast. Faster than I had imagined actually,” he admitted freely.

“Well, a little fairy tipped us off,” Deirdre replied in a smug tone as she stepped beside Rohan.

“Aideen, hm? Well, I guess I’ll have to remember to pluck out her little wings the next time I see her.”

Rohan did his best to ignore the comment, knowing that Angus was just trying to provoke him, and instead chose to attempt a more reasonable approach.

“Is this really your work, Angus? You think this is how a rightful queen would take control over people? By sending someone to burn down their homes and make them frightened for their lives? I know you’re under Maeve’s spell, but I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

The Mystic Knight of Earth only laughed at the blond man’s indignation and answered in an innocent tone.

“That is exactly the attitude that brought us all here, Rohan. Only the fact that none of you will ever accept the righteousness of my queen’s claim to the throne of Kells has forced us to resort to these kinds of methods. But I made these villagers the same offer I will make the rest of Kells; surrender and join Temra and no one will be hurt. Oh, and by assuming that I have to be under some spell to see the justness of our actions just confirms how stubbornly you want to hold onto the lies told to us since we were children.”

Rohan lifted his hands exasperatedly, not able to believe Angus’ twisted opinions.

“What lies? Maeve is an evil, manipulative and devious witch, and we’ve seen that for ourselves often enough to know it’s true.” Silence settled over the group for a moment, and only the noise of the fires was still filling the night. Rohan had meant to make his friend see the truth, but the result of his insults against the Queen of Temra turned out to differ quite a lot from the intended.

Angus’ expression hardened as he gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly, giving him an even more dangerous appearance in the light of the flames.

“Even if you don’t understand my decision to fight for Temra, that doesn’t give you the right to talk about my queen like that. I’ll make you pay for your insolence.” He charged at Rohan without hesitation, but the blond man had anticipated the attack and managed to defend himself without endangering his opponent.

Deirdre, who had been standing next to the leader of the Mystic Knights jumped back, obviously much more surprised, and pulled up her crossbow when she noticed the soldiers accompanying Angus moving towards her.

“This isn’t your fight and I would stay out of it if I were you!” she shouted at them threateningly, aiming in their direction. To her relief, they all moved back a little, although they still had their weapons drawn and seemed ready to attack at any moment.

Deirdre watched them carefully, but just as she had decided to attack the large group all by herself to chase them out of Kells, a change in the battle of her two friends suddenly caught her attention.

Rohan and Angus, who had been clashing swords for a while now, unconsciously moving closer to the burning huts as they did so, were seemingly not fighting on the same level anymore.

Since Rohan was trying not to hurt his friend, only to disarm him, the conflict had been somewhat one-sided from the beginning, but now Angus was getting the upper hand. He had taken advantage of a small gap in Rohan’s defence and had managed to knock his opponent to the ground, separated from his weapon, and now stood above him, his own sword raised for the final blow.

Deirdre’s heart missed a beat as she saw what was happening. This was exactly what she had been afraid of, what she had tried so hard not to think about. Now that the decision was right in front of her, however, she found that it really wasn’t one at all. She moved without thinking, her instincts taking over.

“Angus, stop it!” she shouted at the top of her voice, her fear for Rohan completely overwhelming her, and before she even knew it, she had raised her crossbow and fired it at her dark haired friend.

Angus was caught by the forceful blow of the magical shot completely off guard and was rushed off his feet in an instant. The impact was so strong, however, that it not only interrupted the fight, but knocked the former thief backwards, right into the still burning remains of the building behind him, judging by its size the assembly hut of the village council.

The princess froze in shock and dropped her weapon as she stared into the fire. That was _not_ what she had intended to do. She had wanted to stop the fight, but not like that…

She rushed forward, but the blazing heat was like an impenetrable wall pushing her back and keeping her away from her friend.

Her voice, hoarse from all the smoke surrounding her, echoed through the night, chilling everyone who heard it.

“Angus!”

 

**To be continued…**


	12. Heat of the Moment

Rohan was lying on the ground, shocked and unmoving, feeling as if the blast from Deirdre’s crossbow had hit him instead of his best friend. Just a second ago, Angus had been standing above him, his sword ready to deliver the final blow, when the princess had suddenly shot at the former thief, sending him crashing into the burning hut next to them.

For a brief moment, Rohan seemed to be paralysed, but then the Whirlwind Crossbow hit the ground with a clatter and the princess rushed forward, only to be stopped by the scorching heat of the fire.

“Angus!” Deirdre’s eyes were fixed on the burning remains in front of her, and it was her heart-wrenching cry that finally pulled the Mystic Knight of Fire out of his stupor.

He got up in a swift movement and turned his head to see if there was any way to get to his trapped friend, but the roof of the building and parts of the walls had carved in, blocking his view effectively.

Swallowing hard, Rohan forced himself to move away from the flames to get his sword, which he had lost in the fight with Angus just about a minute ago. He needed to call his armour if he wanted to move further into the burning hut, but when he approached the weapon, his eyes fell on the Temra soldiers, who were still in the village, seemingly uncertain about what to do next. They wouldn’t dare to take on two Mystic Knights on their own, and without knowing what had happened to Angus, their bravery had dissipated.

Although it wouldn’t have taken much to scare them away, Rohan ignored the men, having bigger concerns at the moment. He took the sword of Kells from the ground and rushed back to where his best friend had vanished, ready to call his mystic armour and walk right into the flames with it.

“Fire with–” His arm raised into the sky, Rohan was shouting the summoning spell, when suddenly the loud sound of splintering wood in front of him interrupted him. He was startled for a second and only barely managed to get a hold of Deirdre and pull them both out of the way, when without further warning several blazing pieces of wood came flying in all directions.

The two knights crashed to the ground and the blond man ended up lying on top of the princess to protect her from the charred debris raining down on them. His breath caught in his throat as their eyes met and he noticed her blush even in the tangerine light of the fires.

“Are you alright?”

The young woman hesitated a second, too flustered to answer immediately, but when she noticed the worried expression in Rohan’s eyes she nodded quickly.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

As much as they both appreciated their closeness, there was no time to savour the moment, when their attention was drawn back to what was happening right next to them. There was movement in the remains of the wooden building and when they looked closer, they realised that a figure was emerging from the fire and moving in their direction.

Surprised, Rohan stood up immediately and tried to see something against the bright light of the flames.

“Angus, are you alright?” he shouted, concern for his friend more than evident in his voice. He extended a hand to Deirdre to help her to her feet, but without so much as looking in her direction.

There was no answer at first and Rohan got increasingly worried, but since he was still wearing his normal clothes, he couldn’t move any further, as the fire was holding him back.

“Angus, please, say something!” Now it was Deirdre who called out to their friend, but when the man approaching them remained silent, she couldn’t help herself but reach out for Rohan’s arm and pull him back with her.

Angus was now wearing his armour, but it didn’t look like it used to. The golden ornaments which had decorated the silver surface before, were now a dark black, creating an ominous look that was only intensified by the image of a three-headed dragon adorning the top of the helmet. Where formerly Pyre had been portrayed, now Tyrune was depicted, destroying any doubt there might have been left as to Angus’ allegiance.

He was holding his mace, the battle sword of Temra nowhere in sight, and slowly walked through what had been left of the former village council building.

“Angus, I didn’t mean to…” Deirdre’s voice broke off as she tried to apologise for nearly killing her friend, but he didn’t seem to care much about her regrets. Without warning, the Mystic Knight of Earth raised his weapon and knocked it forcefully onto the ground, sending not only a shockwave through the soil which nearly threw Rohan and Deirdre off their feet, but also causing the surrounding flames to burst higher into the direction of his former friends.

Rohan, who had so far been ignoring Deirdre’s attempts of getting him to back away from Angus, now complied, while trying to shield himself and the princess from the flames.

“It’s no use, we have to call our armour, ‘cause I don’t think he will let us get out of this without a fight. Fire within me!” Wasting no time, Rohan pointed the sword of Kells into the dark night sky and his red and golden armour appeared instantly, making the heat around him much more bearable.

Deirdre wanted to follow his lead, but as she had dropped her crossbow earlier, she had to run over to get it first, but was stopped before she had even managed to cross the distance.

Knowing that their leader was still part of the battle, the Temra soldiers had pulled themselves back together and had seized the opportunity to get to the princess of Kells as long as she was separated from her mystic weapon. A group of four men had charged at Deirdre and had managed to get a hold of her, while a fifth had taken the crossbow from the ground and moved behind the line of other soldiers.

Rohan, who was completely taken by surprise by this sudden attack, aimed his sword at the men holding Deirdre in a desperate attempt to free her, but he knew of course that his enemies were at the advantage.

“Let her go, right now!” he shouted angrily, but only managed to receive a laugh from Angus, who had stepped out of the fire a few meters behind him and was now slowly circling the knight in the red armour almost casually.

“Do you really expect anyone to believe you would be willing to risk this shot? No, as long as you might hurt your precious little princess, you wouldn’t dare to strike.” He smirked as he added almost as an afterthought,

“Just imagine what that would do to the reputation of Draganta, if you accidentally set her on fire.” He trailed off laughing, which only infuriated Rohan even more.

Even underneath the helmet of his mystic armour, his eyes gave away his emotions all too clearly. He was desperate to save Deirdre and tried to come up with a solution, _any_ solution to accomplish that task. They were looking into each other’s eyes for the second time now within the last few minutes, but this time the emotions that came with it were painfully different. Seeing the princess in this danger made it hard for the blond man to concentrate and for lack of any better idea, he finally decided to make a move he had vowed to himself not to resort to.

Rohan turned away from Deirdre and the soldiers holding her and instead faced Angus and aimed the sword of Kells at his chest. Then he made the front part of his helmet retract so the former thief could see his face as he tried to reason with him, his expression grim.

“Let her go, Angus! If you’re angry about what happened to you, you can let that out on me, but leave Deirdre out of this.”

His opponent sighed, betraying his frustration that his former friend still didn’t understand his motivation.

“You really think I’m doing this for revenge? Believe me, Rohan, this is nothing personal, I’m only fighting for the aims of my queen and the glory of Temra. But I’m not unreasonable. I know we won’t seize Kells in one day, so I’m willing to let you and the princess go. _If_ you retreat.”

“And let you take the border? You can’t expect me to do that,” Rohan exclaimed angrily, causing Angus to lose his patience. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he gave a small signal to his men, who immediately tightened their hold on the princess. One of the soldiers even put the blade of his sword at her throat, making both her and Rohan flinch.

“I am going to take the border, whether you _let_ me or not,” Angus explained calmly, but with an audible edge to his voice. “The troops you chased away from the castle have the order to regroup back here and I guess they will arrive soon. So I have my men here, Deirdre’s life in my hands and reinforcements on the way; you can’t stop me. But, let’s say for the sake of old times, I’m willing to let you both get away unharmed. Though I won’t make that offer twice, so stop playing the hero already and accept that you’ve lost today.”

Rohan looked at Deirdre once more and although he knew that she didn’t want him to trade her safety for a part of Kells, he also knew that he didn’t have any other choice if he didn’t want to lose her, too.

Without taking his eyes off of the princess, Rohan nodded eventually, angry at himself for allowing the situation to get out of hand like this and hoping desperately that he hadn’t just sealed the fate of the kingdom by giving in to Angus.

“Alright, you’ve won for now. We’ll leave, so tell your men to let Deirdre go already.”

Despite their agreement, however, the man in the silver and black armour wasn’t ready to let his captive go just yet. He turned his back to Rohan and walked over to the princess, but the smirk on his face transcended into his voice, making his malicious arrogance impossible to miss, despite the blond man not being able to see his face.

“Not so fast! I’m glad that you’ve finally come to realise the hopelessness of your situation, but I’m afraid I can’t let Deirdre get away this easily. After all she almost killed me.” Angus was standing right in front of the red headed woman now and stroked gently with the back of his hand across her cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper, so only the princess and the soldiers holding her could hear him.

“It just wasn’t enough to see me fall off that cliff, right? This time you had to make sure yourself that I was gone for good. But I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected you to be the first who would try to kill me. I’m impressed, really.”

Tears were running down Deirdre’s face as she looked up at Angus with a mixture of sadness and defiance in her eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. We were all devastated when we thought you had died and this just now,” her eyes flickered to the still burning building behind him for just a heartbeat, the sadness in them growing stronger with every second, “I didn’t mean to do that. But you were trying to kill Rohan; I had no time to react differently.”

They just stared at each other for a moment, but before Angus could answer, Rohan’s voice came from behind him, the leader of the Mystic Knights sounding less than pleased with the change of plans.

“What are you trying to pull here, Angus? I agreed to let you take a huge area of Kells, that’s not what I would call ‘getting away easily’.”

The Temra fighter redirected his attention back to his former friend, a smile on his face that seemed almost honest, had the situation been any different.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her. After all, I promised to let you get away unharmed and I am someone who keeps his promises. But the princess and you have to learn that there are consequences to your actions.” At this point, he called one of his men over to him, and with growing uneasiness Rohan recognised the object the soldier was carrying. Deirdre’s crossbow.

Following his leader’s orders, the young man laid the weapon down on the ground and then stepped away from it hurriedly.

The smirk was back on Angus’ face as he approached the crossbow now slowly, while intensifying his grip on his own mystic weapon. As realisation dawned in both of his former friends, it was Deirdre who reacted first, begging Angus to stop.

“No, don’t! You have no right to do that. King Fin Varra gave the crossbow to me and by destroying it you would not only betray him, but everything our weapons and we ever stood for.”

“The only thing your weapons stand for, is too much power in the wrong people’s hands. And I’m going to put an end to that now.”

While the princess was still kept in check by the Temra soldiers, and Rohan couldn’t do anything because of that, the Mystic Knight of Earth swung his mace vigorously and hit the Whirlwind Crossbow with a resounding blow.

The connection of the two mystic weapons sent sparks flying, and to Deirdre’s horror the impact of the rock was strong enough to make the magically enhanced wood of the crossbow splinter into pieces while the metal parts were bent unrecognisably.

Taking a deep, satisfied breath, Angus signalled the soldiers to release the princess and they stepped back from her immediately, while still keeping an alert pose, ready to attack again. For tonight, however, there was no doubt that the battle was over; Temra had won.

“ _Now_ you can go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 It was a joyful day in the castle of Temra with a large feast being held to celebrate the first real victory over Kells since the appearance of the Mystic Knights. And while the man who had achieved all this had wanted to remain at the border for the time being, the queen herself had ordered him back to the castle, saying that the new hero of the kingdom needed to be honoured adequately.

“To Angus, whose brilliant strategy and courageous actions in battle brought this long-awaited victory to Temra.” Maeve had stood up from her chair at the head of the table and was holding her goblet into the air, proposing a toast to her newest fighter. The high-ranking members of the army assembled at the table followed her lead and rose from their seats as well, lifting their tumblers in unison.

“To Angus!” Nectar was spilled all over the table, while the dark haired man, who was at the centre of all this attention, let his eyes wander across the present soldiers slowly, taking in their boastful expressions with a vague sense of disgust. He hated how they were acting as if the war had already been won, but he knew better than to say anything that might alienate his allies, so he just nodded to them and raised his own cup to return their toast.

Across from the former thief the general of Temra’s forces was sitting, trying his best not to let the anger burning inside of him show. As he had expected, the useless Mystic Knights had not been able to handle their mutual problem alone, leaving him to deal with the arrogant fool by himself. But he was prepared.

Torc slowly felt for the glass vial hidden inside his sleeve and smiled to himself as his fingers touched the small object. All he needed to do now was play nice until he got the opportunity to spike Angus’ drink a little and eliminate his biggest rival, hopefully without drawing any attention to himself.

To not look suspicious in any way, the general had engaged in a conversation with the soldier next to him, but when he noticed that Angus’ goblet was nearly empty, he dismissed his subordinate and leaned towards the man in the completely black clothes, his face as friendly as he could manage.

“This is not the time to let one’s cup become empty. In celebration of this significant triumph over Kells I’ll get our hero of the hour something more to drink.” He took the goblet from the dark haired man, receiving a surprised frown in return, and went over to the other end of the table where a mug full of nectar was standing.

Making sure that no one could see what he was doing, Torc poured the content of the vial into the drinking vessel, then filled it up with nectar so nobody would notice a difference. He returned to his seat and wanted to hand the goblet back to Angus, but to his immense shock, Maeve intercepted his hand before the other man could reach for his drink.

“This is a quite unexpected, but highly appreciated gesture, Torc. I had been under the apparently wrongful impression that you were looking for a confrontation with Angus about your respective positions in my forces, but I am glad that appearances can be deceiving.” The queen took the goblet from Torc’s slightly shaking hand, apparently without noticing his nervous behaviour, and gave it to Angus, before picking up her own drink and directing her attention back to all the attendants of the feast.

“To the glory of Temra and the not so distant day when we will all be celebrating in the halls of Kells Castle after we have destroyed our enemies once and for all.”

The soldiers cheered at that prospect and everyone raised their tumblers to return the toast before drinking the nectar greedily. Torc was moving very slowly as he watched how Angus was about to take a sip, too, readying himself for the commotion that might take place as soon as the Mystic Knight suddenly awoke from the spell cast over him. He even held his breath unconsciously, relieved that his time playing only the second fiddle in Maeve’s plans was over now, when the dark haired man started to drink.

 

**To be continued…**


	13. Avenue of Hope

The throne room of Temra was dimly lit, even with a celebration going on and so there were more than enough hiding places for Aideen as the sprite was watching the events in front of her. Rohan had asked her to keep an eye on Torc, to make sure he kept his promise to the Mystic Knights and to help Angus escape from Temra should the general prove to be successful.

She was standing behind a large vase at the side of the room, completely concealed in the shadows, and as far as she could tell, Torc was actually keeping his side of the agreement. He had just poured the potion Deirdre had given him into Angus’ goblet and was about to hand it back to its owner when Maeve suddenly took the drink from his hand. However, to Aideen’s and surely Torc’s relief, the queen had just wanted to emphasise how glad she was to find the two men finally getting along with each other.

A moment later they were just about to drink to Maeve’s toast while Aideen held her breath, waiting for what was about to come next. The Mystic Knight of Earth took a large sip of the nectar and both Torc and Aideen waited anxiously for his reaction, but to their great disappointment, the only thing that happened was Angus scrunching up his face over the slightly bitter taste of his drink. Annoyed, he smashed the chalice down on the table between himself and the general and addressed the man opposite from him with anger in his voice.

“What is this? Are you trying to poison me or is even the simple task of getting a proper drink too much for you these days?”

Torc knew the Mystic Knight wasn’t completely serious with his accusation about the poison, but he also knew that if Queen Maeve took a closer look at the remaining content of the goblet, he would be rather hard pressed to explain himself. The fact that the entire society at the table had gone silent at Angus’ loud accusation didn’t make his situation any easier, either.

He had to act fast if he wanted to keep both his face and his head. Leaning forward slowly, Torc narrowed his eyes dangerously and fixated his gaze on Angus, his voice threateningly low, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I don’t know in what kind of hole you have been raised in Kells or what sort of behaviour Conchobar tends to tolerate from his soldiers nowadays, but here in Temra we have enough manners not to insult the drinks served at our Queen’s table. I think it’s about time somebody finally teaches you some respect.” With that, he reached for the goblet and splashed its content right into the face of the Mystic Knight across from him, causing the silence around them to grow even more tense, as far as that was even possible.

With a speed of reflexes trained by his years as a thief, Angus snatched one of the sharp knives lying around for the feast and launched at Torc, pulling the much heavier man closer to himself, the blade dangerously close to his throat.

Through the forceful movement many of the remaining goblets on the table and some of the candles were knocked over, causing the other soldiers to jump to their feet in surprise, hurriedly trying to prevent anything from catching on fire.

The commotion was quickly silenced, however, when Angus’ voice pierced the air, very quiet, but all the more menacing.

“And why would I want to show any respect to _you_? You’re nothing but a weak old man, who has only managed to stay in his position all these years due to the lack of any competition here in Temra and who can’t accept that his time is _over_. So if you want my respect, why don’t you start with realising that you’re nothing but a burden to your Queen and this kingdom and resign on your own before I _make_ you?”

“Angus, enough! This is no way for the leaders of my troops to behave. You’re supposed to work together and set an example for the soldiers, not to fight like jealous children.”

Angus let the larger man go immediately and bowed his head to Maeve, clearly regretting to have acted this impulsively in front of her.

“Please forgive me, my Queen, I have acted and spoken out of turn. General Torc clearly owns your trust and support and it is not my place to question that. Perhaps it would be wiser for me to return to the border to overlook our progress in securing it. That way there will be no more conflicts of competences around here.”

Maeve thought about his suggestion for a moment and apparently came to the conclusion that despite her earlier impression there was very little hope for the two men to ever get along with each other. As she needed them both, though, at least as long as they were still at war, she ultimately agreed with Angus’ proposal that would keep him and Torc as far away from each other as possible.

The queen nodded her head to Angus, accepting both his apology and his offer to quit the field for now.

“Yes, I guess that is the best solution for the time being. And if I recall it correctly, you had been reluctant to leave the unit of your men behind in the first place.”

“That is true, your Majesty.”

“Good, then leave as soon as you’re ready. And make sure the border is secure when we launch our final attack on Kells in a few days.”

At this point, Angus bowed to her once more and then left the throne room, but not without glaring one last time at Torc, who watched him go, equally friendly.

When the Mystic Knight had left, the feast slowly started to regain its former exuberance, but Aideen, who had stayed completely unnoticed the entire time, had heard and seen more than enough. Staying hidden in the shadows, she made her way to the next exit, eager to bring all the news to Rohan and the others as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

It was almost noon when Deirdre and Ivar were about to reach Tir Na Nog, while Rohan had stayed behind in Kells on Conchobar’s request, to discuss their possible strategies in the next encounter with Maeve’s army and her newest warrior in particular.

The two royals had spent most of the way in silence, both of them contemplating the events of last night that had brought them here today. While Ivar felt bad for not having caught up with his friends in time to help them, Deirdre knew that only she was to blame for what had happened.

Not only had she let herself been taken hostage once again, playing directly into her enemy’s hands, but worst of all was that she had allowed her mystic weapon to be destroyed.

The instant the crossbow had been broken, she had effectively ceased to be a Mystic Knight, which made her feel utterly defenceless and vulnerable. Although she was still the princess, her title meant nothing to her at this moment, as she was unable to help both her friends and her kingdom now that they needed her the most.

“What if Fin Varra can’t or won’t give me a new weapon?” The thought crossed her mind and Deirdre spoke it out loud without realising.

Ivar looked down at the red headed woman beside him, noticing the insecurity in her voice.

“Of course he will. The Little People are the ones who made our weapons in the first place; they will surely be able to create a new one. Fin Varra wants us to win against Temra just as much as we do and he knows how small our chances are with only two Mystic Knights to stand up to Maeve.”

Deirdre nodded, her expression tense, as she was still unsure about the reaction of the fairy king.

They reached the stone circle in silence and immediately laid their hands over the red gleaming jewel that brought them down to Tir Na Nog in the blink of an eye.

As most other times when they had come here before, the Little People were having some kind of celebration and a group of them was dancing in a circle in front of the throne, laughter filling the cave. However, as soon as they noticed the much larger intruders, the mood shifted instantly and the celebration stopped, leaving everyone glaring up at the two royals.

“You! How dare you come here and step in front of me again, after what you have done?” Fin Varra shouted angrily. He had jumped up from his throne and was pointing his finger accusingly at the humans, who were completely baffled by the unexpected aggressive welcome.

“King Fin Varra, please, we are here to explain to you what exactly happened over the last few days and although I understand your emotional response, I assure you that you will see, it was not our doing that led to the destruction of Deirdre’s crossbow.” Ivar tried to be as diplomatic as possible, but the fairy king did not seem to be this easily placated.

“‘ _My emotional response_ ’? ‘ _Not your doing_ ’?” he echoed seethingly, looking about ready to turn the blue clad prince into a spriggan should he dare to say another word.

“Was it not your emotional response to Angus’ not so permanent death that got us into this mess in the first place? I know I never told you what to do with your weapons in case one of you should die, but I would have expected you to return his mace here to Tir Na Nog, so its magic could never have fallen into the wrong hands. But you just had to display it for everyone to see, leading directly to its theft, of course.”

Deirdre shook her head at that accusation, not agreeing with Fin Varra’s harsh words.

“But we had the mace protected. Cathbad cast a spell on it, making sure only a Mystic Knight could ever move it, and there was no way we could have foreseen what happened to Angus.”

When the king continued, however, he completely ignored her objections.

“I was probably too lenient. I had wanted to give you a few days to cope with your loss before claiming the weapon back, and now you see where this brought us. The Whirlwind Crossbow destroyed! No weapon or instrument crafted by men would ever have been able to accomplish that, but now not only is a Mystic Knight wielding his weapon in the name of Temra, but he’s used it to destroy one of its own kind. Angus has broken one of the most important codes of fairy magic and _you_ did nothing to stop him!” Fin Varra had talked himself into a rage and was now furiously pointing at the knights until Deirdre finally had had enough and snapped, shouting at the king.

“We _did_ try to stop him and it nearly ended with me killing him!”

Everyone in the cave fell silent and the Little People watched in amazement as the princess of Kells suddenly fell on her knees in front of the throne and looked at Fin Varra pleadingly, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

“I know none of the Mystic Knights have recently lived up to the expectations everyone has in us, but it feels as if we’re trying to fight on so many fronts simultaneously that it’s tearing us apart. Most importantly, we need to protect and save Angus, because it’s not his fault what’s happening to him, but at the same time we need to fight against him and defeat him, because he’s attacking Kells and threatening everyone in the kingdom.”

Deirdre broke off, swallowing hard, but the king did not interrupt her, as he saw how heart-felt her explanations were.

“I know I have no right to ask for anything from you and your people, but if the Mystic Knights aren’t strong enough, Kells will certainly fall and I can not let that happen. Please, King Fin Varra, I need a new mystic weapon, even if I didn’t earn it.”

The fairy king scrutinised the princess before him for some time, apparently pondering her request, until he motioned for her to stand up again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he finally answered her.

“Yes, you’re right. You didn’t earn it.”

Both Deirdre and Ivar looked down at Fin Varra in shock, about to interrupt his reply, but he continued without letting them speak.

“Save your arguments. I know how sorry you are for what happened, but if you really want to receive a new weapon, Princess, there are rules that will have to be obeyed.”

Deirdre raised an eyebrow at that, not having expected that kind of reply.

“What rules? What do I have to do?”

“There will be a test. Not here and now, but when you least expect it. And you will be judged on your actions from now on, determining if you are still worthy to own the weapon and armour of a Mystic Knight. Until then you will have to make do with whatever arsenal your human world has to offer. Although I guess it will not be of much help against Maeve.”

The princess was torn between relief about the prospect of receiving a new crossbow at all and the sense of foreboding that she might not get it soon enough. She wanted to argue with the king that there was no time to be wasted, but he cut her off once more, pointing his long staff at her while speaking.

“Don’t even try to change my mind about this. The magic of the mystic weapons has already been violated more than enough and I will not make matters worse by breaking the old laws for any of you. So you better go and get home before you waste any more of my time or of yours.”

With that, Fin Varra waved the staff in the direction of the two royals and before they even knew what had happened, Deirdre and Ivar were back in the stone circle in the woods, having been thrown out of Tir Na Nog rather unceremoniously. The princess shrugged, still visibly shaken, but accepting the fact that there was nothing to achieve here anymore.

“I guess we better get back to Kells, then.”

 

* * *

 

It had been a long day in the castle of Kells, with everyone being busy dealing with the aftermath of the attack of the previous evening. The damages at the walls and gate and in the courtyard had been mostly repaired by now, but the destruction of Deirdre’s crossbow still weighed heavily on everyone, not just the princess herself.

King Conchobar was of course very relieved that his daughter was unharmed, but he also feared the impact that the – at least technical – loss of another Mystic Knight would have on the war.

He was standing in the throne room now with Cathbad and the leader of the knights, who had once again explained the course of his and Deirdre’s encounter with Angus of the night before.

“I am very grateful that you have saved my daughter, Rohan, but giving Maeve control over the border was a very high price to pay for that. We can only hope that King Fin Varra will give a new weapon to Deirdre, because I’m afraid with only two Mystic Knights to defend Kells, our chances to withstand the next of Temra’s assaults are looking anything but good.”

“I know, my King, and I can only apologise once more for letting the situation get out of hand like that, but I am sure that Fin Varra will understand our situation and replace Deirdre’s crossbow.”

Rohan felt horrible for what had happened, because he knew the events in the village last night had been mostly his fault. If only he had managed to defeat Angus on his own, Deirdre would never have needed to intervene, they wouldn’t have been beaten and ultimately the crossbow wouldn’t have been destroyed. But he also knew that hanging onto ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’ was useless, as the king reminded him now as well.

“It is a noble trait that you accept your responsibility, Rohan, but feeling guilty for anything isn’t going to improve our situation. Tell me, is there any news from Aideen so far?” he asked, hoping against hope that his daughter’s rather spontaneous plan, to forge a short-lived alliance with Torc to free Angus from Temra, would prove to be successful after all.

Since the Mystic Knights had not been able to defeat their friend themselves, let alone make him drink Cathbad’s potion, depending on the help of Temra’s general felt like clutching for the last straw in the desperate attempt to not admit their own helplessness. Rohan shook his head, however, not having heard anything from his fairy friend ever since she had agreed to spy on Torc and Angus for him.

“No, she has not returned yet. We can only hope no news is good news at this point.”

The king nodded, but could not bring himself to express any kind of optimism after the dreadful events of the past days.

Sighing, he pressed his fingers against his temple as he tried to fight off the beginnings of a headache, which had started to build with Torc’s attack on the castle.

“I just wish I could go to meet Angus and Aideen at the border when they’re fleeing from Temra. It doesn’t feel right just to be sitting here, waiting for them to return,” Rohan said silently, frustrated about his inability to do anything to help.

“I know, Rohan, but we have to be patient. The area is far too dangerous at the moment for you to travel there alone and any increased presence of our soldiers would only lead to an escalation of the conflict we can not win yet,” Cathbad remarked, receiving an understanding nod from the Mystic Knight of Fire.

Silence settled over the room for some time, while Rohan felt his own restlessness increasing, until he couldn’t bear to just stand around any longer. He excused himself to the king and Cathbad and left the throne room, heading towards the courtyard to blow off some steam in sword practise.

When Conchobar and his advisor were alone again, the druid carefully voiced his thoughts, sounding just as troubled and worried as the other man felt.

“My King, although I did my best to create a potion powerful enough to break Maeve’s spell over Angus, and Deirdre touched it as well, making sure it works, I think it would be wise to make plans in case our hopes will not be fulfilled. If Mider was really as certain about the potency of Maeve’s magic as Torc suggested, there might be the possibility that Angus is lost to us forever.”

“It is a possibility, yes, but nothing more so far. And if Mider and Maeve had always been right about their plans, Kells would surely have fallen a long time ago and we wouldn’t be standing here now.”

The druid hesitated, knowing how cold his words might sound, although he was just thinking of the safety of the kingdom at the moment.

“You are right, of course, but if the events of last night have taught us anything, it is that we need to decide how to deal with Angus in the future should it turn out for the worst. If he stays under Maeve’s control and we cannot treat him like an enemy we might as well surrender right away.”

“I know, Cathbad, but I will deal with that possibility once it presents itself. For now, let us just hope that Aideen will return with good news soon, even if it’s the only thing we have left to do.” Conchobar’s voice was grave, making it quite obvious how little faith he had really left for a good outcome of their situation, but his advisor just nodded and answered briefly, trying to heed his king’s instruction.

“I will, my Lord, after all I think it is our last chance.”

 

* * *

 

Rohan was in the courtyard of the castle trading blows with the last soldier there he hadn’t challenged yet. The man was fighting as best as he could, but the Mystic Knight was clearly superior and it didn’t take long until he had the tip of his blade against the other’s chest, forcing him to give up.

However, today Rohan felt neither the gratification of a good practice nor the satisfaction of winning as he sheathed his sword again and finally allowed his sparring partner to leave. His thoughts were wandering while he was staring off into the distance, until a tiny voice suddenly caught his attention.

“Rohan, there you are, I’ve been searching for you.”

The Mystic Knight whirled around to the small sprite immediately and barraged her with questions before she even had time to breathe, the tension of his long wait clearly showing.

“Aideen, what happened? Did it work, did the spell break?”

The look on her face was more than enough of an answer and Rohan’s breath caught in his throat, but he needed to hear her say the words, or otherwise his mind would refuse to accept the truth.

The fairy shook her head, her voice soft and apologetic as if the events were her own fault.

“I’m so sorry, Rohan, but the potion… it didn’t work. I saw how Angus drank it, but it didn’t have any effect on him and he’s still loyal to Maeve. I’m so sorry.” She repeated the last words in a soft whisper, witnessing how Rohan practically broke down in front of her.

The Mystic Knight ran a hand through his hair while he was searching helplessly for words, his composure faltering noticeably.

Rohan swallowed hard, trying to fight off the lump that started to form in his throat, but his voice still sounded forced when he finally spoke very quietly.

“But it should have… it should have worked! It was the only thing we could do… how are we supposed to save him now?” He had to steady himself against the wall as he felt the whole situation crashing down on him, and Aideen watched as the blond man slowly sank to the ground, hopelessness and defeat written all over his features.

“What can we do now, Aideen?”

She wanted to be able to give Rohan the answer he was hoping for, a solution of any kind, but the sprite just shook her head, feeling as helpless as her friend.

“I don’t know, Rohan. I have talked to everyone in Tir Na Nog and to all the woodelves too, but nobody knew of a way to break Maeve’s enchantment.” She could see how her reply just aggravated Rohan’s despair, so she tried to sound as optimistic as possible when she continued. “But I’m sure there is something. Some way to help Angus and we will find out what it is.”

“I doubt that.” Rohan’s voice sounded hollow, empty, and Aideen was genuinely concerned for him now, but the Mystic Knight didn’t want to hear any more of her well-meant advice. He just wanted to be alone.

“Go, tell the king and Cathbad what you told me and everything else you saw and heard in Temra. They need to know.”

The fairy looked at him sadly for another moment, but as she didn’t know what else to say, she left Rohan to himself and flew into the direction of the throne room, hating the fact that she didn’t have any better news to share.

 

**To be continued…**


	14. Reverse of Shade

When Deirdre and Ivar returned to Kells, the princess was in a surprisingly good mood. Granted, she hadn’t received a new weapon from Fin Varra yet, but she had the prospect of earning one as soon as she had passed the test the fairy king had talked about. She would surely have to face it very soon, but she had passed the test of the Little People once before, so Deirdre saw no reason why this time should be any different.

That thought in mind, the princess felt elated and more hopeful than she had been in a very long time, that is, until she passed the gate into the courtyard and her eyes fell on Rohan, who was still sitting on the ground against the wall, a sense of utter desolation radiating from him.

“Oh, no,” the princess whispered, as she could think of only one explanation for her friend’s depression. The potion hadn’t worked. Or, as she thought desperately, maybe Torc hadn’t managed to hold up his end of the bargain.

Fearing the answer she was about to receive, the red headed woman walked slowly towards Rohan and knelt down in front of him to get his attention.

“What happened?” she asked gently, but when the Mystic Knight of Fire looked at her with the same expression he had worn when they had thought Angus was dead, Deirdre knew what he was about to say.

“Angus drank the potion, but it didn't work.” She had meant to pronounce it as a question, but in the end it came out as a statement anyway.

Rohan nodded, not trusting his voice at this moment to manage even a small 'yes'.

Deirdre's breath hitched in her throat and she bit her bottom lip unconsciously. She tried to reach back to the optimism that had filled her just moments ago and without knowing exactly how, the princess actually managed a small smile as she reached out to take Rohan's hand with hers.

“We will not give up on him, you hear me? I’m sure there is another way to break Maeve's spell and we will find it, no matter how long it takes.”

It was practically the same as what Aideen had told Rohan not long ago, but hearing Deirdre say it now and seeing her hopeful smile somehow made him actually start to believe it.

The Mystic Knight of Fire tightened his grip on her hand and nodded once more, this time resolutely, before pulling himself and the princess back up.

“You're right. It’s much too early to give up this easily and I promise that the next time we meet Angus we'll bring him home, no matter what.”

Without realising it, the two still stood with their fingers entwined and just looked at each other, the young woman glad that she had been able to get Rohan out of his depressed mood.

However, their moment of closeness was interrupted all too soon as one of the guards approached them swiftly.

“Princess Deirdre, the king has requested your presence in the throne room immediately upon your return.” Surprised, she nodded to the soldier while letting go of Rohan's hand in the process. The two Mystic Knights shared a short glance before heading towards the castle entrance to see the king, Ivar, who had stayed in the background during their conversation, following behind.

 

* * *

 

It was the most desolate meeting with her father Deirdre had ever attended. After having gotten the news from Aideen that the potion hadn’t been able to break Maeve’s magic, the king’s mood had become grim, and neither his daughter’s nor Rohan’s assertions that they would find a different way to free Angus had done anything to lift his spirits.

After having agreed to send messengers out to the reinforcement units in the south to prepare for the large attack Maeve was planning, as Aideen had overheard, Conchobar had asked the Mystic Knights to leave to oversee the repairs still in progress all around the castle.

Deirdre had known it was only an excuse to discuss the matter with Cathbad alone, but since her father hadn’t listened to anything she or the others had said anyway, they had left without objections.

Now she was in the courtyard with Rohan and Ivar, sitting on the stairs leading up to the wall, all of them deep in thought, searching for a solution or rather waiting for a sudden inspiration as to how they could break Maeve’s control over Angus.

A few minutes passed by in silence without anyone being able to think of something useful and Deirdre let her eyes wander over the people walking across the courtyard. Guards were doing their rounds and a few peasants brought supplies for the castle, but nothing out of the ordinary happened, when a soldier with short blond hair visible beneath his helmet heading towards the main entrance of the building suddenly caught the princess’ eye.

She had to search her memories for a moment to remember the name of the man she had met the other night when Angus had stolen his mystic weapon from the castle, but then it came back to her. Ulric. Both his efficient way to command the guards and the sincerity with which he had vowed to restore the memory of the Mystic Knight they had thought dead at the time had impressed her, and she wondered vaguely where he was going now with such determination.

As soon as he had vanished from her sight, though, the princess focused back on her real priority and started going through all the forms of magic she knew once more. Not that she truly believed that she had any valuable knowledge in this field, but they just couldn’t afford to miss anything.

They had sat there for quite some time when Rohan suddenly got up from the stone step he had been sitting on and walked down to the ground. He seemed to be tired and frustrated and excused himself by saying that he would go to see Cathbad to go over some ideas with him, before turning around and leaving his two royal friends alone.

Deirdre looked after his retreating form and tried to hold on to the slim hope that the druid had had a sudden flash of genius in the meantime, because otherwise they had not a single clue what to do next.

 

* * *

 

After the Mystic Knights had left the throne room, King Conchobar had stood up from his throne and was now pacing the floor under the concerned eyes of Cathbad. The druid despised the fact that he had been right about what had happened and he knew that the decision the king was about to make was probably the hardest of his entire reign.

“Cathbad, old friend, I have always been able to count on you as my advisor and it appears that your prediction has been right once more.” Conchobar kept walking and only glanced at the druid between strides.

“Yes, my King, although in this particular case I would give anything to have been mistaken. Because I am afraid that aside from the potion I do not know of any other way to help Angus, and as Aideen reported, neither does King Fin Varra nor any other of the Little People.” He swallowed hard, but continued despite his aversion against his next words.

“I think it is time to do something about the threat Angus poses to Kells, preferably without involving the rest of the Mystic Knights. It is obvious that they cannot accept the truth and are unable to face him in battle, although he has proven that he is not their friend anymore.”

The king nodded and finally came to a halt, sad determination filling his voice as he answered his advisor and then called to one of the soldiers at the door.

“Yes, I know. Guard, go to commander Uuan and tell him to send his most trusted man to me immediately. Then leave us alone!”

“Yes, my Lord.” The guard bowed to his ruler and left swiftly, whereupon Conchobar went over to one of the windows and looked outside, not wanting to see the expression on Cathbad’s face when he spoke.

“Deirdre will never forgive me for this. Neither will Rohan, but I fear that my daughter will not even look at me ever again.” His voice was filled with grief, and in this moment the king appeared to be much older than he really was, feeling the entire weight of his kingdom on his shoulders.

Cathbad looked at his monarch sadly, wishing that he could do anything to lighten his burden.

“In time she will come to realise that you are protecting not only her and her friends, but the entirety of Kells and she will see that you had no other choice.”

Conchobar kept looking outside, his next words barely audible.

“I hope you’re right.”

The two men spent the wait in silence, until after some time one of the soldiers of Kells entered the throne room and bowed deeply to his king, then stood to attention.

“My Lord, soldier Ulric at your service! The commander said you wanted to see me.”

Conchobar looked the man up and down with a raised eyebrow, trying to figure out if he was the right one for the task that awaited him.

“Ulric, yes? I do not believe that I have heard your name before.”

“I had been stationed at one of our outposts at the border until a month ago, my King.”

“Really? I have asked Commander Uuan to send me his most trusted soldier; it is quite impressive that he considers you as that after you have been here only a month.”

The blond man shifted for a moment, seemingly uncomfortable under the scrutinising gaze of the king, but then he stood up straighter, his entire demeanour becoming more confident.

“My father has been a soldier of Kells, as has been his father before him. I only wish to do my best to continue the line of my family serving the kingdom.”

Conchobar was surprised by this answer and looked at the man for a long moment in silence. Then he nodded understandingly.

“Good, because for the assignment I have for you I need a man I can trust completely.”

“It will be an honour to follow your orders, my Lord,” Ulric announced without hesitation, wondering why the king was making such a secret about his mission.

“I am sure that you have heard about the situation with Angus, right?”

“Yes, I have.”

“But what you probably don’t know is that today the only hope we had for freeing him from Maeve’s control turned out to be futile. We have information that in only a few days we’ll have to expect a new and massive assault from Temra and I think that that will be our last chance to put an end to their advances into Kells before it is too late.

The troops are prepared and even though my daughter is not in possession of a mystic weapon right now, I have faith that the Mystic Knights will be able to deal with Maeve’s usual magic tricks, but the real problem is Angus.

After what Aideen reported about the effect of Cathbad’s potion, I think freeing him from Maeve’s spell is no longer an option. We tried to save him, but now the fate of Kells has to be our first concern.”

Ulric had listened to the king’s explanations intently, but wasn’t entirely certain what his ruler wanted him to do. He voiced his question carefully, realising how delicate the subject was.

“Do I understand you correctly, that you want me to deal with him, my King?”

“Yes, soldier. When Maeve’s army attacks, I want you to face him on the battlefield and make sure that he will not pose a threat to Kells ever again.”

Silence followed Conchobar’s words, as Ulric looked at him with repugnance, clearly not having expected such a task from the king. When he finally spoke, it was only with hesitation in his voice.

“But, my Lord, he is one of us. Is that really necessary?”

“Yes, I am afraid so, because he _was_ one of us. Both Cathbad and the Little People have made it clear that they do not know of any way to break Maeve’s enchantment and I can not risk having my daughter or Rohan fight against Angus once more. They are both too attached to him and I fear that they will not be able to do what has to be done. So I’m asking you to do it.”

When Ulric didn’t answer immediately, the king continued, understanding how uncomfortable the soldier felt about this task.

“I know you have objections to killing someone many of us have called a friend once, but you have to believe me that you will prevent Kells from suffering a lot more harm by making sure that Angus will never fight for Temra again.”

He had wanted to say something more, but was interrupted when to both his and Cathbad’s horror Rohan suddenly stormed into the throne room, his face contorted beyond anger.

“You’re sending  someone to kill Angus? After all the times he risked his life for Kells you’re just going to abandon him like that?”

The Mystic Knight of Fire, who had only wanted to talk to Cathbad, not to eavesdrop on the king, had been standing just outside the door, shell-shocked by the discussion going on inside. At this point, however, he hadn’t been able to listen to the king’s explanations any longer, as the anger that had built in his stomach had risen into his throat, creating a bitter taste in his mouth.

Conchobar flinched at the loud interruption and directed his attention immediately at the intruder, clearly irritated to be spoken to like that.

“Rohan, what are you doing, listening in on our meeting? I ordered you to leave.”

The blond man looked at his ruler furiously, not caring about anything like orders or court protocols at the moment, letting his emotions run freely.

“Yes, of course, you didn’t want me to overhear your plans. But I’m telling you, I won’t allow you to even lay a hand on Angus.” Rohan’s voice was strained from the effort it took not to shout at the king, but very matter-of-factly.

Cathbad looked at his former apprentice, understanding, but also concern clearly visible on his face, and spoke before the king had the chance to answer Rohan.

“Don’t you understand that that is exactly what Maeve is counting on, Rohan? If we don’t stop Angus, he will lead Temra’s army to victory. We cannot let that happen, because no matter how much we wish it were different, he is our enemy now.”

The druid had walked over to the blond man and now tried to lay his hand on his shoulder to emphasise his point, but the leader of the Mystic Knights pulled away from him and looked at him defiantly, not ready to give up on the argument.

“No! The only thing I understand is that the man I’ve known my entire life, who is my best friend, my brother, is being held in Temra against his will, forced to fight us, forced to attack his own home. So no, I will not accept that he is our enemy now and I will certainly not give up on him until he is safe back with us.

And you better call your assassin here back and think of another plan, because if he or anyone else even tries to strike Angus down, they will have to face me first.”

Both King Conchobar and Cathbad seemed to be completely taken aback by Rohan’s words, and the latter even slightly hurt.

He, too, cared about Angus, but as the king’s advisor he knew that if he had to choose between the safety of Kells and his, he just had other priorities than Rohan.

“You’re right, Rohan, none of us have known Angus as well as you did by growing up with him, but we’ve known him for over ten years now, too, and you can trust me that the King’s decision has not been made lightly.” The druid sighed deeply, but before he could continue, the king intercepted.

“What Cathbad is trying to say is, that your attachment to Angus is exactly the reason why I want somebody else to fight against him in the oncoming assault Aideen warned us about. I am sorry Rohan, but you have proven that you are unable to look past your friendship and do what has to be done, so I want Ulric to face Angus on the battlefield the next time he attacks.”

Rohan stared at King Conchobar, momentarily speechless, not able to believe what he was hearing. It was as if both the king and Cathbad were stabbing him in the back with their plan and he was more than furious about it. However, his voice was surprisingly calm when he finally answered.

“If you really do this, then Draganta will have fought for Kells for the longest time. I will not risk my life for a kingdom that betrays its own soldiers like this.” He turned to leave and even ignored it when Cathbad called after him.

“Rohan, don’t go like this!”

The king put a hand on the older man’s arm, silencing him effectively.

“No, let him. But Rohan, before you leave, tell me one more thing. What if Angus raises his weapon against Deirdre again? Or against Ivar or any of the other soldiers of Kells? What will you do then? Will you just stand by and watch them all die by his hand? Because that is exactly what is going to happen if we don’t bring ourselves to treat him like an enemy.”

Rohan didn’t reply anything to that, but stopped on his way out nevertheless. Ulric, who had been silent since the Mystic Knight had entered, seized the opportunity to say something, to try and reach the other man despite his fully justified anger.

“Maybe it is time that you accept that the Angus you’ve known is gone and start to fight him accordingly, because otherwise not only are you vulnerable, but Kells is, too.”

Despite his good intentions, the soldier immediately regretted to have spoken, as Rohan spun around to him in a heartbeat and fixated him with a furious gaze.

“You stay out of this! You don’t know Angus and you don’t even have the right to speak his name in my presence, you understand me?”

Ulric just nodded once and stepped back, realising that he was probably not in the best position to reason with the Mystic Knight just now.

After that, Rohan turned away from the soldier and wanted to leave the room at last, but stopped himself and faced the king and Cathbad once more. He looked into the king’s eyes for a long moment, before speaking again.

“You know, what I can’t help but wonder? If it were me under Maeve’s control, attacking Kells, would you be just as eager to fight and kill me, or would you hesitate, because I’m Draganta and there had to be another way? Just honestly ask yourself that, will you, _your Majesty_?” With that, he turned around again and finally left the room, leaving the King of Kells and his advisor to their troubled thoughts.

 

* * *

 

When Rohan left the castle, still too furious to even formulate a straight thought, Deirdre was standing outside, waiting for his return, and was more than perplexed by his sudden mood change. She glanced back at Ivar, who was still sitting on the stairs at the wall, before approaching Rohan carefully.

“Rohan, what did Cathbad say? Did he have any new ideas?”

The explanation the blond man offered about what had happened wasn’t very long, but with every word, Deirdre’s expression became more and more filled with hurt and rage, unconsciously mimicking that of her friend.

She couldn’t believe that her father really wanted to have Angus killed, not after having witnessed the pain that his supposed death had caused her and the other Mystic Knights over the past week.

Too enraged to bear any company right now, Rohan excused himself to Deirdre and strode across the courtyard to vanish through the gate, leaving a more than furious princess behind.

Deirdre stayed where she was for a few seconds, trying to clear her thoughts, her mind reeling after what she had just been told. Confusion and anger made it hard for her to think clearly, but when she saw a certain soldier come out of the castle and head towards the stables, she was instantly focused and followed him purposefully.

“Ulric!” she called after him, causing the man to turn around and bow to her without hesitation.

“Princess Deirdre, how can I help you?”

The red headed woman looked at him, the anger in her rising at the ignorance he was displaying, which she wasn’t buying one bit.

“Rohan told me what happened, so don’t even pretend not to know what I want from you.”

Ulric kept his eyes on the ground when he answered her, understanding how much pain his assignment had to be causing her.

“I am sorry, but I have my orders from the King and there is nothing I can do about that. You have to talk to your father if you want to change anything.”

“But I’m talking to _you_ now and as the future queen of Kells I order you to leave Angus alone! Rohan, Ivar and I will take care of the problem; we’ll capture Angus alive in the next battle and you’ll have to stay out of that!”

Now the soldier looked directly at Deirdre, his eyes betraying his dislike for his orders all too clearly, but she didn’t see it, as her own fury was clouding her vision.

“If you manage to do that, I will be the first to congratulate you, but until then I have to follow my orders. As you said yourself, Princess, you are only the _future_ queen of Kells; in the present I still have to answer to your father.”

Deirdre’s eyes were shooting daggers at him right now, but she tried her best not to let her temper get the better of her as she replied.

“Maybe, but believe me, when I’m queen, you won’t have to answer to anyone in this castle any longer, because I’ll make sure that you won’t be a soldier of Kells anymore.”

Ulric inclined his head to Deirdre, genuine sadness visible in his features, because he knew he had lost her trust and respect forever. However, he was bound by an oath he was not willing to break, not even for his princess.

“I am very sorry to hear that, but until that day comes, I will continue to serve this kingdom as well as I can. Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess, I have duties to see to.” With that, Ulric turned around to go to the stables as he had wanted to before, but Deirdre’s voice held him back once more.

“You swore to me only a few days ago that you would catch the thief who stole the mace from the throne room and return the weapon safely, or did you already forget that? So capture Angus alive and adhere to your vow!” The princess tried to sound as convincing as possible, realising that Ulric was a man who put great value on his word, but to her great disappointment, he did not share her opinion on the situation.

“I will do what I swore to do; I will return Angus’ mace to you, because whether you can accept it or not, that is the only thing that is left of the man you knew.” He held her gaze steadily for a long moment and then bowed shortly to the princess once more and left, this time uninterrupted.

A single tear was running down Deirdre’s cheek as she watched him go, feeling as if her whole world was crashing down around her. It was bad enough that she wasn’t a Mystic Knight at the moment, but having to realise that not even her title and position as heir to the throne could enabled her to influence what was happening around her anymore, was making her feel more helpless and vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life.

It was a horrible sensation and for a moment the princess didn’t know what to do anymore, but then she thought of Rohan and how much he counted on her support and she wiped the wetness from her face immediately.

She would go to see her father now, not willing to give up until he changed his mind and then she would leave the castle and head for the nearby village where Rohan lived, hoping that the enraged young man had gone there after his argument with the king and Cathbad.

She wanted to speak to him, because she knew that as long as she was at her friends’ side when they needed her, she was fulfilling her most important duty.

 

**To be continued…**


	15. Stand by Me

It was still early in the morning when Ivar walked quickly through the halls of Kells Castle, planning to join the king and the leaders of the army in the throne room, where they were looking over the strategy plans for today’s battle.

When a group of soldiers passed him by, he wondered for the dozenth time in the past days, how the building, being as crowded as it was, could feel so empty at the same time.

Yesterday, a large number of soldiers had arrived from the reinforcement units in the south, in preparation for the huge Temra attack they now finally had to face.

It seemed as if everyone in Kells, and in the castle in particular, had been holding their breaths, just waiting for the proverbial sword hanging over them to fall, anxious to finally break the hold the war had been keeping on them for quite some time now.

However, there was also a second topic at the moment that one could not fail to hear aside from the impending battle. It had been two days since the falling-out between Rohan and King Conchobar and the fact that the Mystic Knight of Fire had not set foot in the castle since then was being highly discussed between soldiers and villagers alike. Although only very few knew the real reason for the fight, that wasn’t stopping anyone from spreading the wildest theories about what had transpired in the throne room, ranging from an attempt on the king’s life to a conspiracy intended to help Maeve in taking over the kingdom.

Ivar sighed as he thought about these events and how little he had been able to mediate between his friend and the king. He was just glad that apparently no one outside the castle was aware of the fact that Princess Deirdre had taken the side opposite her father in this dispute. Although she hadn’t left the castle, she hadn’t talked to King Conchobar even once since her own failed attempt to persuade him not to try and have Angus killed in the oncoming battle.

It had been a very emotional discussion, involving a lot of shouting, especially on Deirdre’s part, but in the end the princess had had to realise that she would not be able to change her father’s decision, and after swearing that she would never forget nor forgive his betrayal, she had stormed out of the throne room, seeing both Cathbad and her father for the last time since then.

As Ivar approached the throne room now, he had the faint hope that she might have changed her mind, that the princess would attend the military meeting, but when he entered, that hope was immediately destroyed.

The large table in the room was already littered with maps, tactic plans and unit lists, but apart from King Conchobar and the soldiers, only Cathbad was in the room, looking through some parchments the moment the prince entered.

As he walked through the doorway, Ivar’s mind went back two days ago, when he had first tried to talk to Deirdre after her fight with her father, but had only managed to evoke her fury as well.

He still remembered the furious expression in her eyes all too clearly…

 _“I can’t believe that you’re actually on my father’s side in this. He wants Angus_ killed _, we can’t let that happen!”_

_Ivar looked at the princess with a sad expression, understanding her anger all too well, but despite of it he couldn’t forget what was at stake._

_“Of course we can’t, but turning our backs on your father isn’t going to help anyone. If the attack Maeve plans against us is really as massive as we assume, we have to fight side by side with Kells’ soldiers or I fear that we will lose._

_Aside from Angus, who knows what Maeve will have in store for us and with only two Mystic Knights to fight,…” Ivar broke off, giving Deirdre an apologetic look for his rather inconsiderate words, but the princess quickly waved a hand to dismiss his concerns._

_“No, you’re right, without my weapon I’m not really a Mystic Knight, so there’s no harm in calling it as it is. Go on.” The foreign prince nodded and continued._

_“Well, with only two of us Mystic Knights being armed for a fight, we cannot allow anything to separate us in our efforts to win this battle. When the time comes, we will make sure to keep Ulric away from Angus and face him ourselves, but until then I think it is essential that all of Kells’ forces stand united.”_

_Deirdre seemed to ponder Ivar’s words for a moment, but then she shook her head and turned away from him._

_“No. I will of course take part in the battle, and I’m pretty sure so will Rohan, but I cannot forgive my father or pretend as if nothing has happened. Support him if you must; I can understand your opinion, but don’t expect me to adopt it.”_

Ivar shook his head slightly, forcing the memory out of his mind for now. After all, he was set on concentrating on the battle preparations and it was no use to doubt the choice he had made anymore. Before he could even spend another thought on the subject, Conchobar noticed his arrival and greeted the prince, handing him a parchment to look over in the process. After all they still had a lot of work to do, before the army and the defences of the castle were ready for the attack.

 

* * *

 

The army of Temra had gathered before dawn. The area around the castle was filled with soldiers in black and purple armour, waiting for their marching orders to invade Kells and finally strike directly at their enemy’s heart.

While the soldiers outside were already getting restless, Queen Maeve was in her throne room, addressing the two leaders of her forces.

Angus and Torc stood in front of their queen, both intend on ignoring the other as much as possible, while Maeve gave her final orders before the army would march.

“You know our strategy. Torc, the soldiers of our army will be following your orders, while the Sentinels, Tyrune and the little surprise I have summoned for the Mystic Knights will listen to Angus’ command.”

“Yes, my Queen. I will make sure that our men will bring victory to Temra once and for all.” Torc bowed to Maeve, then stood up straight again, his head held high with pride for his soldiers.

Angus grinned slightly, having his own opinion on the value of most of Temra’s forces, but knew that this was not the time to start another fight with the older man.

“Good. You may go and alert your troops that we will march with the first sunlight.”

“My Queen.” The general nodded and left the throne room, exhilaration filling him as he imagined himself dining in Kells Castle tonight, celebrating the defeat of their enemies.

When Torc had left the room, Maeve addressed her remaining fighter, determination in her voice.

“Angus, you have proven yourself to be a valuable and loyal servant. You have fulfilled all of my requests, exceeding every expectation I had in you.”

The dark haired man clearly relished Maeve’s praise, but lowered his head as he answered her.

 “I have done very little to earn this honour, my Queen. My life belongs to you; I will do as you command.”

Satisfied by his obedience, Maeve gave Angus a warm smile, before her expression became cold again as she continued.

“Good. You know everything we have planned and have what I gave you to fulfil it. The mercy you showed the Mystic Knights so far ends today. Make sure that by the end of the day the defenders of Kells are dead.”

“I swear with my life that I will. Today Kells falls, one way or another.”

 

* * *

 

“With all the refugees and the reinforcement units, the castle is too crowded to fight here properly. Of course we’ll prepare everything so we’ll be able to retreat here and ward off Temra’s attacks, but this time we will take the main fight out in the open. Maeve will have prepared for a siege and that’s exactly why we’ll give her an open battle. She will not have expected that.”

King Conchobar repeated their plan for the battle once again, receiving agreeing nods from the present soldiers and Ivar, but the latter looked rather deep in thought as he listened to the king only half-heartedly. Conchobar noticed this and laid down the parchment he had been holding to concentrate on the foreign prince.

“Ivar, is everything alright? You seem troubled.”

The blue clad man realised his behaviour and immediately shook his head and apologised.

“No, my King, I am sorry if I appeared distracted. I had just been thinking that Rohan and Deirdre should be here while we discuss the battle, as they will both have to play an important part in it. It just doesn’t seem right that they’re not here.”

The ruler of Kells looked at Ivar with an unreadable expression for a long moment, as several emotions went across his features. Finally he answered, but his voice sounded extremely strained.

“You are right as far as Rohan is concerned, but I had thought it clear that Deirdre will not take part in this battle without her mystic weapon and armour. The danger is far too great and I will not risk my daughter’s life when she is not protected.”

Ivar was completely perplexed by this, as he had not doubted Deirdre’s resolution to accompany them even for one second. Of course he understood that the king was worried about her, but he wasn’t sure that the red headed woman could be stopped once she had made up her mind.

“But she seemed to be rather set on it, Sire. I don’t think she would listen to me if I told her not to go.” Conchobar thought about Ivar’s words, and, knowing his daughter well enough to know that the prince was telling the truth, he decided that he would have to talk to her himself, whether she wanted to see him or not.

“I fear that you are right about this, Ivar. But you also have a good point concerning Rohan. I want you to go to his village and convince him to return to the castle. The soldiers need to see that Draganta is still on their side or I’m afraid that they will lose their trust in themselves and in the Mystic Knight’s ability to protect them.

I will talk to Deirdre in the mean time.”

The king called to one of the guards at the doorway to find out where his daughter was, while Ivar bowed to him quickly and then left, not really having any idea what he was going to say to Rohan.

 

* * *

 

Princess Deirdre was in the armoury of Kells Castle, trying to find a good weapon she wanted to use in the oncoming battle. The loss of her crossbow still weighed heavily on her and she wanted to be prepared as well as possible when she fought against the Temra troops side by side with Rohan, Ivar and the soldiers of Kells. Also, as she had set her mind on taking on Angus on her own, she knew she would need all the preparation she could get.

Walking along the rows of tables and shelves displaying all sorts of weapons and armours, Deirdre let her hand glide over a few particularly beautiful swords, reserved only for the best fighters of the army and she wondered if she could take one of these, when a loud voice from the corridor behind her suddenly made her stop.

She rolled her eyes as she recognised the voice of her father, whom she had successfully avoided for the past two days, and turned around reluctantly when she heard him enter.

“Deirdre, what are you doing here? I thought I couldn’t believe my ears when the guard I had sent to find you reported that you had gone to the armoury to prepare yourself for the battle. There is no way I will let you fight in this, not without your mystic armour, do you understand me?”

The red headed young woman looked up at the king irritatedly, but although Conchobar was used to her defiance, he had not anticipated the anger radiating from her.

“Yes, father, I understand you perfectly. But even if I leave out the fact that we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I were a man, what do you think your soldiers would say to this decision of yours?”

“Why, what would they have to say to it?” the king asked, a little confused.

“Well, I could imagine they might be a little disheartened, because they have been fighting in this war for Kells for years, without any mystic weapons to attack or mystic armour to protect them.”

Conchobar ignored her arguments and tried to reason with his daughter, his arms crossed in front of his chest, making him seem more the concerned father than the king than ever before.

“Deirdre, I know you don’t want to listen to me after our disagreement, but –”

“ _Disagreement_?”

The king paused for a moment at Deirdre’s interruption, but then chose to ignore her comment for now.

“ _But,_ if what Aideen and our spies at the border have reported is true, we’re going to face one of the largest assaults from Temra in the history of this war.”

He laid a hand on Deirdre’s shoulder and gripped her tightly to prevent her from backing away.

“You are no Mystic Knight at the moment and I cannot risk having you fight in this battle. I know you want to help your friends, but it is far too dangerous for you, I am sorry.”

Deirdre, however, wasn’t ready to give up on this argument yet. She stared up at her father resolutely, her strong-willed nature showing.

“Not too long ago it was you who said that being a Mystic Knight is not about the weapons or the armour, but about the hope we brought to the kingdom and its people. Now what do you think will happen to this hope in our soldiers if their own princess is apparently too afraid to fight with them? Have you thought about that?

And what will the people of Kells think if their king is willing to send their fathers, brothers and sons to their possible deaths, but his own daughter is not allowed to defend her kingdom, unless she’s protected by some magical armour?” Deirdre gesticulated with her arms unceasingly, determined not to give an inch to the king in this.

“You’re right, with Maeve gathering her entire forces and Angus fighting on her side, this is probably the greatest threat Kells has ever faced. And that is exactly the reason why I have to be on the battlefield. If we want to stand even a chance at winning, we need not only every capable fighter we can get, and you know I’m more than capable, but also a high moral among our soldiers. And I’m the one who will make sure of that.”

At this moment, Deirdre made the decision to step up to her responsibility as the princess and throne heir of Kells. Although she had wanted to seek out Angus on the battlefield herself before Ulric did, she was certain that Rohan was prepared to do that, too. The soldiers of Kells needed her now.

“Let me lead our army. I have enough experience in battle and it will show both our men and Maeve, that it doesn’t matter if I’m a Mystic Knight or not. I will always fight for Kells no matter what.” She hesitated for a second and now looked at her father rather sadly. “One day I will be queen. And when I am, I want the people of Kells to follow me, not only because I am of royal blood, but because they trust in my ability to lead them.”

Silence settled over the armoury as King Conchobar looked at his daughter, speechless with a mixture of surprise and pride. He was of course still worried about her, but at this moment, for maybe the first time ever, he saw not only his little girl in front of him, but a strong woman and skilled warrior, and he had a very clear notion of the wonderful queen she would certainly make in the future.

Most importantly, however, Conchobar knew she was right. Deirdre’s presence on the battlefield could very well make the crucial difference and if he wanted Kells’ army to win, it was his duty as king not to stop her from fighting, even if it meant putting what was most precious to him in this world in danger.

He sighed and finally nodded.

“Very well. If this is your wish, I will not stop you, but don’t forget that you take on a very large responsibility.”

Deirdre smiled, glad that she had been able to convince her father to change his mind. She hadn’t forgiven him yet, and if something should happen to Angus, she certainly never would, but for now she was focused on the battle ahead and her new role in it.

“I won’t. And I will not disappoint the trust you and our soldiers put in me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make myself familiar with our tactics and talk to the captains of the army.”

Deirdre left the armoury while her father stayed behind and watched her go, hoping that he had made a wise decision. As his daughter turned around a corner and left his view, Conchobar remembered something he didn’t want her to miss on the battlefield, especially when she was the one to lead the troops.

The king pulled a small silver key from his pocket and headed to a door leading to another part of the armoury, reserved for the royal armour and weapons. He possessed the only key, so Deirdre hadn’t been able to enter it before.

 

* * *

 

Rohan was sitting outside of his hut, sharpening his sword, his thoughts wandering. The atmosphere in the village was fearful as rumours of a large Temran army heading towards the castle were circulating, making everyone nervous.

The blond man sighed as he thought about the options before him. He really had no inclination to return to court, not after the king’s decision concerning Angus, which still felt like a personal betrayal to him, but he also knew that he could not abandon Kells in its hour of need.

The faces of the villagers around him and especially those of the few refugees from the border that had made it here so far, made it clear that everyone was counting on him, on _Draganta_ to protect them. And Rohan could not disappoint them.

Of course, he also had to make sure that his best friend survived the day. Just thinking about Conchobar’s order to have Angus killed made the anger in Rohan resurface and he clenched his right hand into a fist until his knuckles turned white.

However, he had made a promise that he would not let that happen, and so the Mystic Knight of Fire took a deep breath to calm himself and decided that it was probably time to leave. He would talk to Deirdre and Ivar at the castle, making sure that everyone of them knew what they had to do in the battle, and he prayed to Dagda that everything would turn out alright. For some reason, though, Rohan couldn’t help the terrible feeling in his stomach when he thought about what lay ahead of them.

For the moment, however, he decided not to put too much thought into it, and after he had returned the grindstone back into his hut, he headed towards the castle of Kells, already seeing Ivar coming in his direction from afar. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought it was time to end his isolation from the others.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, King Conchobar, Cathbad, several captains of Kells’ army, Deirdre, Rohan and Ivar had gathered in the throne room, with the princess standing in front of her father who was seated on his throne. The situation was very solemn, as the king had just announced that he was giving the command over his troops to Deirdre for this battle, and now a guard was stepping next to Conchobar, a richly decorated long wooden box in his hands.

The king stood up and looked down at his daughter with pride shining in his eyes. He reached into the box and retrieved a beautiful silver and golden sword which he held before him as he spoke.

“This is the sword belonging to the throne heir of Kells. It has been in the possession of our family for centuries and today is the day that I shall pass it on to you, like my father passed it on to me all these years ago.” He looked down at the elegant weapon and at the emblem of Kells worked into the blade just below the hilt. It had never been wielded by a woman before, and that was exactly why Conchobar had hesitated so long to give it to Deirdre, but now he felt foolish for not trusting her with it earlier.

“My daughter, you have made me proud to be your father on every single day since your birth, but I am also aware that you often felt you weren’t taken seriously because of your gender. If that ever truly was the case, it ends today. You are the Crown Princess of Kells, my successor and one day you will be the Queen of Kells. I hand this weapon to you, so you can lead our forces into battle with it, hoping it will be of as much use to you as it has been to me.”

Conchobar handed the sword to Deirdre, who took it carefully, visibly honoured by the unexpected gift. When her hand touched the hilt of it however, new resolution seemed to fill her and she held the weapon proudly, bowing to the king. Then the princess turned around to those who were watching, her head held high and a strong determination in her voice.

“I promise to all of you that I will not take this responsibility lightly. I will lead our army into battle and with the support of the Mystic Knights of Fire and Water, I am certain that we will be able to win today. For Kells!” Deirdre raised her new sword into the air and everyone present repeated her shout.

“For Kells!”

 

* * *

 

While the princess and Ivar were busy going over some last minute tactics with the king, Cathbad approached Rohan, knowing that the young man probably didn’t want to talk to him, yet feeling the need to explain his decision concerning Angus.

There was no way of foretelling the outcome of today’s battle and the druid didn’t want his former apprentice to enter an uncertain fight with this dispute still hanging over them.

“Rohan, I am glad that you have decided to return to the castle. Kells needs you, you can never forget that.”

The blond man, who was standing next to the fireplace, looking out of the window, didn’t even bother to turn around when he answered his former master.

“Yes, I know, Kells needs Draganta and that’s part of why I’m here. But I’m also here to stop you and the king from harming Angus. Because don’t forget what I said before; if he should die today I will not fight for Kells ever again. And that is not an expression, don’t be mistaken about it. If Angus dies today, I will leave this island forever.”

Rohan turned around now and faced the druid with a gaze that sent a shiver down the older man’s spine and Cathbad realised that his hopes of settling things before the battle had been foolish.

Although he still stood to his decision that there was no other way to stop the threat Angus posed to Kells than to kill him, he regretted that it had cost him the good relationship he had always had with Rohan.

“Angus was a good man, Rohan. He will always be remembered for that.”

The Mystic Knight of Fire inhaled sharply and wanted to reply something to Cathbad’s words, but in the end he decided that it was useless to talk about it anymore. The druid had made his decision, as had he.

Rohan turned to leave the throne room, planning to head down into the courtyard, but stopped to address Cathbad once more.

“It appears that in the end all of us will do what we have to. So there’s really no need to discuss this any further.” With that he left the druid behind, the bad feeling he had about today slowly intensifying.

 

* * *

 

They had gathered on a large field not far from the castle of Kells, both armies still far apart from one another, but already facing each other anxiously. Their numbers were enormous, especially on Temra’s side, but the outcome of the battle was far from being decided.

Princess Deirdre was on horseback in front of the soldiers of Kells, facing them.

Rohan and Ivar had already called their armour and were standing close to the princess, their mystic weapons in hand. When Deirdre’s and Rohan’s eyes met, he smiled at her and nodded encouragingly, whereupon the young woman started to ride along the line of soldiers, addressing them loudly.

“I know we have fought a lot of battles in the years of war that lie behind us. And just like many of you, I don’t even remember a time when there has been no fighting, but we have survived. We have grown stronger and it all led us here, today.

This battle we have to face now will never be forgotten. It will mark a point in history that everyone will remember as the turning point of the war. Because Maeve has gathered all her forces against us and if she wins, Kells will fall. If she wins, all of us will perish and darkness will rule over this land and its people.” The princess paused to let the image she had created impact on the soldiers and to make sure they had all realised what was at stake today.

“But I say ‘No more’! I say we make a stand and stop Temra’s army here and now, because even though we might be inferior in numbers, a Kellsman who fights for his home, his family, his kingdom will fight with the strength and determination of ten men when he has to protect them.

Today, we will show Maeve that we will not back down, we will not surrender. Stand by my side, soldiers of Kells, and we will be VICTORIOUS!” Deirdre raised her sword into the sky and simultaneously a loud roar erupted from the army, as each and every soldier copied her movement, their spirits rising.

Rohan looked at Deirdre, admiration and love shining in his eyes. He had always been sure that Deirdre would be a good leader for her people once her time came to be queen, but her passionate speech now had made him realise that she already was just that. He could feel that the soldiers of Kells would follow her willingly into battle and even into death if it came to that.

Across from them, on the other side of the battle field, Angus had been watching the princess as well, able to understand enough of her speech to realise that his opponents were ready to fight. He grinned as he drew his own sword, waiting for the signal from his queen to start the attack.

Today the Mystic Knights would cease to exist; he would make sure of that.

  

 **To be continued…**  


	16. Against All Odds

Maeve was sitting on her horse and looked over the assembled armies in front of her. An amused smile formed on her lips as she watched Princess Deirdre holding a passionate speech to the soldiers of Kells and the queen almost pitied her enemies for being foolish enough to follow the young and inexperienced woman into battle.

Well, almost.

Her smile broadened when she took a closer look at her own forces. Torc was on his horse in front of the army, obviously eager to prove himself in battle and not wanting to stay behind as he had done many times before. The general was wearing a tense and determined expression as he waited for Maeve’s signal to attack and she was certain that he would not disappoint her today.

A little way to her left Angus was standing, the battle sword of Temra unsheathed and ready to strike. The three Sentinels were behind him, awaiting his orders.

It hadn’t been easy to get them to follow the command of a Mystic Knight, especially not since Angus was the one responsible for the Rock Wolf’s death, but the young man had left them with little doubt as to his determination to destroy Kells. The small cut on the Ice Lord’s throat left behind by the blade of Angus’ sword, though not deep and already healing, had made his sentiment towards their possible refusal more than evident.

Maeve’s eyes settled back on the army opposing her. It was time. She raised her hand to signal to a soldier standing next to her and he immediately lifted the horn he was holding to his lips and blew it vigorously, resulting in a loud battle cry erupting from the army.

Torc repeated the movement Deirdre had made moments ago and raised the sword in his hand into the air, motioning for his soldiers to follow him, as he charged forward on his horse. A wave of black and purple swept across the open field between the armies, but opposite from them, none of the soldiers of Kells were moving forward. They held their position and waited anxiously for their orders, each of them throwing occasional glances to the princess leading them.

Deirdre kept her eyes fixated on Torc as he got closer to her position and when he was about halfway, she called out to the Mystic Knight of Fire, her voice tense, but in control.

“Rohan, now!”

The blond man stepped forward, the sword of Kells drawn and pointing ahead of him.

Torc, who saw the movement, readied himself for the attack, but to his amazement the fire that shot out of Rohan’s sword was not directed at him, but at the ground a little way ahead of him.

Flames burst from the ground and moved to both sides along the breadth of the battlefield, following a clear line of dark liquid that had been poured on the grass, visible only to a closer look.

Torc cursed loudly as his horse reared up in front of the flames and nearly threw him off, but he was able to stay in the saddle. Behind him the troops of Temra came to a rather abrupt halt when the wall of flames suddenly blocked their path and irritated cries broke out when the soldiers didn’t know how to react.

Further back on the battlefield, Maeve’s eyes narrowed as she watched the events before her. She hadn’t expected this kind of ruse from her enemies, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle with her powers.

To her side she could see that Angus was getting restless and wanted to join the fight, and sure enough the dark haired man turned around to her to speak.

“My Queen, if I call my armour, those flames won’t be able to stop me.”

Maeve only made a placating gesture and answered in a calm voice, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Not yet. Deirdre won’t stop my army with these useless tricks of hers. She has no idea what I still have in store for her.” With that, Maeve reached out with her staff, although she didn’t point it in the air like she usually did, but instead aimed at the ground. Green lightning shot from the stone embedded on it into the earth, which began to move slightly.

“Serpent of Temra, attack the soldiers of Kells and destroy them and the Mystic Knights once and for all,” the queen shouted. Starting from where the energy of her staff had touched the ground, the earth shifted and rose a little, forming a straight line across the battlefield, right towards the position of Kells’ army.

As soon as Rohan had ignited the oil poured onto the grass, Deirdre ordered the archers and crossbowmen to the front of their forces and they immediately took aim at their enemies. Bolts and arrows sailed through the air and rained down on Temra’s troops, wounding those who didn’t have their shields up in time.

Still fully concentrated, Deirdre watched the increasing confusion and panic among their opponents and hoped that this was already the first step to victory today. However, a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye now caught her attention and the princess frowned when she realised that it was the earth itself that was moving. Even more importantly, whatever was causing it was coming directly in her direction.

“Watch out, there’s something underground!” Deirdre kicked her horse to get them out of the way in time and most of the soldiers around her as well as Rohan and Ivar followed her lead and scattered. Just a second later the ground broke open exactly where Deirdre had been before and a giant snake shot out of the ground, its long body reaching high into the sky.

Its size was intimidating and it towered over the surprised army, the head in over fifty feet height, and stared down at them dangerously.

“By Dagda! Why do Maeve’s monsters always have to be so incredibly _big_?” Rohan asked out loud, slightly stunned by the snake’s impressive scale. “Ivar, we need to take care of this thing, before it attacks the soldiers.”

The foreign prince nodded and gripped his trident more tightly, but before the two Mystic Knights could start an attack, the Serpent of Temra suddenly moved forward and left the earth completely, its long tail sweeping across the ground, knocking entire units of soldiers over.

The creature’s cold eyes fell on one of the men who hadn’t been able to get away in time and without a second’s hesitation it shot down and bit him, then proceeded to lift the screaming soldier up, probably to swallow him whole.

Before the snake could rise more than fifteen feet, however, a stream of flames hit it directly in the eyes, causing it to hiss in pain and release the fighter of Kells from its grip. The man crashed to the ground and stayed there, unconscious, but was quickly pulled out of harm’s way by his fellow soldiers.

Rohan still stood with his sword held high and his gaze fixated on the serpent.

“Ivar!”

This time blue electricity shot out of Ivar’s trident as an answer and the giant snake flinched in pain, but instead of being slowed down, the attacks only seemed to make it angrier. It tried to bite Rohan, but the Mystic Knight of Fire rolled out of the way just in time to avoid its pointed teeth.

“Archers! Take that thing down as long as the Temras still can’t reach us!” Deirdre’s voice sounded over the battlefield and before Rohan had even gotten back up from the ground, the projectiles that had formerly been fired in the direction of the Temra army now rained down on the enormous snake instead.

The blond man smiled as his eyes met Deirdre’s and he nodded curtly, thanking her for the support. Then a sudden change in his surroundings suddenly caught his attention and Rohan looked up, startled to see that the previously blue and clear sky had inexplicably filled with dark clouds and a strong wind had started to blow.

Within seconds, heavy rain was pouring down from above and Rohan could see lightning striking down not too far in the distance. Loud thunder rolled across the land, drowning out the sound of the soldiers for a few moments.

The archers and crossbowmen of Kells’ army were still firing at the giant snake, and Rohan and Ivar attacked it, too, but they realised with horror that the sudden rain was quickly extinguishing the flames separating them from the soldiers of Temra.

Deirdre was still sitting on her horse, her sword in hand, and tried not to be overwhelmed by the course of the battle. She had known that Maeve was an enemy she wasn’t allowed to underestimate and that probably not all of her plans would be successful, but she had not expected that even the weather would turn against her.

Trying to make out the enemy queen through the veil of fire and smoke, Deirdre had to shield her eyes against the rain beating down on her. When she finally spotted her, Maeve was holding her magic sceptre high into the air, even controlling the sky with her powers. Mider must have given the Queen of Temra a lot of his energy for this battle, as she had never been able to do something like this on her own.

Cursing, the princess took a deep breath and pulled herself together. Everyone was counting on her to stay in control and she wasn’t planning on letting either the soldiers of Kells or her fellow Mystic Knights down.

“Rohan, Ivar, you’ll have to take care of this monster alone for now. The Temras are coming through.”

Throwing a quick glance towards their advancing enemies, the two knights signalled Deirdre that they could handle it and then turned their attention back to the serpent.

The beast had countless bolts and arrows sticking out of its scaly skin, but was still fighting back with undiminished aggression. It hissed loudly and snapped at Ivar, but simultaneous hits of fire and electricity made it halt in its attack and gave Rohan the time to strike out with his sword and land a well aimed hit at the snake’s head.

The Serpent of Temra was bleeding and pulled back with a screech of pain, showing first signs of its impending defeat.

Meanwhile the soldiers of Temra led by Torc had passed the former line of fire separating the armies and were now clashing their weapons with the men of Kells. Deirdre had no trouble fending off any attacks on her, but she noticed that the strong rain was quickly soaking the ground and was turning the battlefield into an oversized puddle of mud.

Looking through the rain over the turmoil of the battle, her eyes suddenly fell on something that made her heart skip a beat. Angus was making his way across the field through the mass of soldiers, still wearing his Temra clothes. Apparently he hadn’t thought it necessary yet to call his armour.

Deirdre wanted to ride in his direction, but when a fireball out of nowhere suddenly hit the ground right in front of her, her horse reared up and the princess was forcefully thrown off of it. Luckily the ground was soft enough by now to assuage her impact, but her clothes became completely drenched in mud.

The red headed woman looked up to see where the attack had come from and immediately spotted Tyrune flying above Kells’ soldiers, randomly attacking them. She turned to see how Rohan and Ivar were faring against the snake, and saw that although the monster was still attacking them, its movements had become considerably slower and less coordinated.

“Rohan, we need Pyre!” Deirdre shouted.

The Mystic Knight of Fire looked over to her and, noticing the messy state the princess was in, worry blocked all of his other thoughts right away.

“Deirdre, are you alright? What happened?”

The princess rolled her eyes, because even though she was touched by Rohan’s concern, this was not the right time for it.

“I’m fine, honestly, but Tyrune’s attacking and we really need Pyre.”

As if to underline her words, one of the dragon’s attacks hit not far away from them and sent several soldiers flying. Rohan looked up at the three-headed creature for a second, before snapping back to his senses and grapping his Dragon’s Breath Dagger.

“Of course. Pyre, Dragon of Dare, I summon you!" He then proceeded to shoot a stream of flames at Tyrune to stop him from attacking the army of Kells any further, but the dragon just ignored it and continued its attacks.

Rohan was still focused on the sky above and didn’t notice that Deirdre had come up right beside him, until the princess laid a hand on his arm to get his attention. Startled, he looked down into her blue eyes, surprised by the urgency in them.

“I’ve seen Angus. He hasn’t even called his armour yet and I think he’s heading right towards us. You have to get to him, before Ulric does.”

Rohan swallowed hard and looked over to Ivar, who was still fighting the Serpent of Temra.

As if he had felt the attention on him, the Mystic Knight of Water tore his focus away from his opponent for a moment and returned Rohan’s gaze, clearly sensing the indecisiveness of his friend.

“I’ve nearly taken it down, so don’t worry, I can handle it from here. You go and find Angus!”

Draganta smiled gratefully and nodded before turning back to Deirdre.

“Where did you see him?”

She pointed him in the right direction and Rohan took off, pushing Temra soldiers out of his way as he tried to pass the bulk of the fighting as quickly as possible.

With the darkness from the clouded sky and the still pouring rain it was hard to see where he was headed, but a flash of white between the mix of red and purple clad soldiers finally caught Rohan’s attention. He spotted the Ice Lord several yards in front of him. Scanning the surroundings of the Sentinel, the Mystic Knight took a sharp breath as he finally laid eyes on the man he had been looking for.

“Angus!”

The former thief had been giving orders to the three Sentinels standing close to him, but spun around when he heard his name being called. However, it wasn’t Rohan who had called and the blond man was shocked to see how Angus focused on someone to the left of him, his sword gripped tightly.

Rohan stormed forward and broke through a group of Kells soldiers that had been hiding him from view, finding himself in some sort of clearing among the rest of the battle.

Angus was standing a few yards in front of him, the Sentinels of Temra by his side, and a little to his left, Rohan could see the man who had just called out to his best friend. Ulric.

A confusing mixture of white hot anger and fear shot through Rohan as he saw the soldier, new determination filling him as he stepped forward.

“Angus! This is between you and me. I’ll fight you and no one else has to get involved.”

The black-clad Temra fighter looked at the Mystic Knight and then at the soldier of Kells, amusement clearly evident on his face. He didn’t know why Rohan wanted to stop him from fighting the other man, but it was enough reason for him to do exactly that, even if it was just to annoy his former friend.

“Sorry Rohan, but I’m bored fighting you. I think for now it’s the Ice Lord, the Lighting Bat and the Sea Serpent who still have a score to settle with you.”

The three Sentinels followed the command immediately and ran towards Rohan, attacking him.

Draganta tried to get past them, wanting to reach Angus, but the Temra fighters didn’t give him a chance as they attacked simultaneously, demanding Rohan’s full attention if he didn’t want to be beaten.

Meanwhile, half way across the battlefield, Deirdre had spotted her friend’s situation and tried to reach Angus herself, but the sheer amount of soldiers was making it hard for her to make any progress. She had to duck once to avoid one of Tyrune’s attacks and cheered inwardly when she finally spotted Pyre flying towards them in the distance.

Unaware of the attention their confrontation was receiving, Angus and Ulric advanced on each other, their weapons held tightly and ready to fight. The former thief smirked as he delivered the first blow without hesitation, but Ulric parried it easily. Then the soldier used his shield trying to knock his opponent down, but Angus was only pushed back a little, losing his momentum.

He didn’t give in, however, and attacked again, swords clashing as the two warriors fought each other with vigour, neither of them holding back. The battle sword of Temra flashed through the air and finally drew blood as it slashed across Ulric’s left upper arm.

The soldier flinched and pulled back, but continued his swift attacks and, after feinting a move to his right, he hit Angus with his shield instead and then struck with his sword, leaving a gash across the other man’s cheek.

The former thief brought some space between them and reached for the wound, cursing. He hadn’t expected his enemy to be such a well trained fighter and in contrast to the Mystic Knights, this soldier didn’t hold back one bit.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. What was your name again?”

“Ulric. And I’m sorry it had to come to this, but the King cannot tolerate you threatening his kingdom any longer. I am here to put an end to that.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ulric rushed forward once more and struck at Angus, who parried the blow this time, clearly surprised by the words of his opponent. An assassin? _That_ he had not seen coming.

With the stakes being clear, the battle turned even more aggressive, both fighters trading hits at an incredible speed, but in the end it was Angus who managed to get the crucial advantage. Forcing Ulric’s sword down with his own, he hit the man in the face with his elbow, throwing him off balance. Another push, and a blow to the head with the hilt of Angus’ sword and the soldier went to the ground, disarmed.

Angus stood above him, wiping blood off his face and stared down at his enemy with contempt. He looked around shortly and saw Rohan still fighting against the Sentinels much further away than before. The Mystic Knight of Fire was doing his best to hold himself against his three opponents and had not been keeping track of the fight between Angus and Ulric.

Through the mass of soldiers from both sides that were still fighting everywhere around him, the former thief could see the princess coming towards him, but she was still too far away to change the outcome of this confrontation.

Turning his attention back to the man on the ground, Angus almost laughed out loud as Ulric reached for the bow he had strapped on his back. He probably wanted to use it as a close-quarters weapon as Angus had kicked both his sword and shield away, leaving the soldier effectively defenceless.

The dark-haired fighter reached down and took the bow before Ulric could get a hold of it, then threw it a few feet away, out of reach.

“You don’t need that anymore. Face it, you’re beaten.” With that, Angus reached down once more, this time pulling the soldier up from behind by his collar. The slightly strangled noise Ulric made quickly turned into a cry of pain, as he felt how the battle sword of Temra pierced into his back and right through him.

“No!” Deirdre had finally arrived, but she was too late. All she could do was stare at the two men in front of her, not believing what she was seeing.

“No!” She repeated unconsciously, as Angus pulled the blade back out of the soldier’s body and threw him to the ground carelessly.

“You… you killed him,” the princess uttered in horror and disbelief.

“He wanted to kill _me_. And I’m done playing nice.” Angus fastened his grip on his sword and advanced on the princess menacingly, but before he could move more than a few feet, a wall of flames suddenly erupted in front of him, effectively shielding Deirdre from him. Both looked to the side and saw Rohan approaching, the look on his face unreadable.

Blue lightning struck through the flames and hit the ground in front of Angus, coming from Ivar, who suddenly appeared beside Deirdre, his trident in hand.

“Rohan and I will take care of him, Deirdre, you stay behind.”

The princess just nodded and kneeled on the ground next to Ulric’s unmoving body, her behaviour speaking volumes of the shocked state she was in. Mystic weapon or not, normally she would never just accept an order to stay out of a fight, especially one so important to her.

Seeing as he was now up against two Mystic Knights, Angus sheathed his sword and instead reached for the Terra Sling Mace fastened to his belt and called his armour immediately. He started to attack both Rohan and Ivar, but Deirdre paid them no attention, as her eyes were focused only on the man in front of her and the blood gathering on the ground underneath him.

She touched his back lightly, expecting him to be dead, but a sudden movement made her pull back in surprise. Ulric groaned and shifted slightly, until Deirdre helped him to turn around carefully.

Looking down, she saw the exit wound from the blade and even though she tried to deny it, she realised instantly that all help would be too late for the short-haired blond man.

“Pr… Princess.”

Ripped out of her stupor, Deirdre looked into Ulric’s eyes and reached out to take his hand in hers.

“I’m here. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” she assured him, despite the fact that she knew it was a lie.

The soldier shook his head, though, having seen enough death in his life to know that this was his.

“No… no, I won’t. I’m sorry… sorry that I failed you. You and the king. Maybe I sho… should have listened to you, instead.”

Tears streamed down Deirdre’s face and she tightened her grip on Ulric’s hand, shaking her head.

“No, my father was right. Angus is dead and you just tried to do what has to be done.” Her voice broke, but the princess forced herself to continue, knowing that these were Ulric’s last moments in this world.

“You are a brave soldier and I apologise for what I said the other day. It would have been an honour for me to see you under my command one day.”

“My bow.”

“What?” Slightly startled Deirdre looked down at the wounded man, unsure if she had understood him correctly.

“My bow, it’s over there.” Ulric motioned to where Angus had thrown the weapon earlier.

“It’s nothing special, but my father made it and as I have no children to… to give it to, I’d like you to have it…, Princess.” Violent coughs interrupted his words several times and a few drops of blood were running down Ulric’s chin as he continued.

“If it’s inappropriate –”

“No!” Deirdre interrupted him immediately. “No, it’s a wonderful gift. I’ll treasure it.”

The soldier nodded, his eyes already glazed and unfocused.

“Good. Please tell… tell my family that… tell them that…” But his voice trailed off and he ultimately fell silent, the hand the princess was still holding becoming limb.

For a few endless seconds, Deirdre just sat there and stared at the lifeless figure, until her body was suddenly wrecked by sobs and cries she couldn’t control. She knew that she was supposed to stay strong, but seeing Ulric die, practically in her arms, was more than she could bear right now.

Looking up, Deirdre saw the wooden bow Ulric had mentioned lying a few feet away from her, and she let go of the soldier’s hand to move towards it. The instant her fingers touched the weapon, however, something completely unexpected happened.

The brown wood changed under her touch, turning white, and accompanied by a strange light spreading from that spot, the entire weapon transformed. The plain wood became decorated with ornaments and carvings and the pattern on both endings looked like it had been braided into the material. The bow was now completely white with a few gold-plated parts.

Deirdre stared down at the weapon in shock, but then she heard the voice of Fin Varra in her head, calming her.

“Strength and resolution and also heart and compassion. You have displayed all these qualities and they will not only make you a fine queen in the future, but also a wonderful Mystic Knight today. Princess, you have proven yourself more than worthy of the Tempest Bow, a weapon fit to defend your kingdom. Use it wisely.”

Deirdre closed her eyes and took hold of the bow, feeling its energy inside of her. She was a Mystic Knight again.

Wiping her tears away with her free hand, the princess stood up and looked back at the dead body of Ulric, biting her bottom lip before she managed to speak.

“I won’t forget your sacrifice. And I’ll end this. Now.” Then she raised her new weapon into the sky and shouted loudly,

“Air above me!”

For a heartbeat the princess felt as if she was caught in the middle of a storm. She could tell that her clothes were being replaced by her mystic armour, but it was different than before. Looking down, the red headed woman noticed that her new armour had some significant changes compared to her old one.

For one, it was completely skirt free, and instead continued down to her knees where it was met by her high boots, leaving no skin on her legs unprotected. Her arms, too, were completely covered now and the new helmet was tighter and completely closed, except from the face.

Deirdre felt the power of the armour surge through her and she was ready to use it.

Running towards where Rohan and Ivar were still fighting Angus, the Mystic Knight of Air pulled the string of her bow and an arrow that seemed to be completely made out of light appeared in her grasp.

The princess hesitated a second and looked at the three men in front of her. They had gone through so much together and it pained her that it had to end like this. But she was not going to lose anyone else to the monster Maeve had created.

“Rohan, Ivar, get out of the way!”

Hearing Deirdre’s commanding voice, the two men looked around to her and froze at the unexpected sight of the new mystic armour, giving Deirdre the opening she needed. Angus, who had been startled by her appearance, too, was caught completely off guard as the princess suddenly fired the Tempest Bow at him.

The light arrow rushed towards him, creating a small whirlwind around itself as it flew, and finally hit Angus square in the chest. He was thrown back and crashed to the ground, then remained there, unmoving. After a few seconds, his armour even vanished, leaving the dark haired man in his black clothes sporting the emblem of Temra.

“What did you do?” Rohan shouted incredulously and rushed over to the former thief, pulling off one glove so he could feel at his neck for a pulse. Deirdre stepped closer slowly, her bow now in a loose grip at her side.

“He is not Angus anymore, Rohan. Somebody had to stop him.”

Ivar looked from the unconscious figure on the ground to Deirdre and finally to Rohan, not sure what to think of this new development.

“Is he still alive?” he asked silently, prepared for the worst after seeing the strength of Deirdre’s attack.

“Yes, he is. But not thanks to Deirdre.” Rohan turned around angrily, glaring at the princess. “What were you thinking? You could have killed him.”

“Yes, just like he killed Ulric.”

The sadness in her voice made Rohan halt in his accusations.

“He is dead, because we didn’t do something sooner. Now do what you want with him,” the princess motioned towards Angus, “I don’t care. There’s still an entire army and Maeve to take care of.”

With that, Deirdre turned around and headed off towards the fighting soldiers, the Tempest Bow raised again.

 

**To be continued…**


	17. Silver Lining

_“There's still an entire army and Maeve to take care of."_

_With that, Deirdre turned around and headed off towards the fighting soldiers, the Tempest Bow raised again._

 

The rest of the battle went by surprisingly fast.

Beaten by Rohan and Ivar and without the orders of their new leader, the Sentinels fled from the battlefield, leaving Tyrune as the only support for the soldiers, except from the Queen herself.

The three-headed dragon was still fighting against Pyre and even appeared to be getting the upper hand; blasts of fire shooting constantly from its snouts, overpowering its enemy.

Rohan watched this development with concern while he stayed at Angus’ side, unwilling to risk losing his friend again. Both he and Ivar were attacking the Temra soldiers in their close proximity, but the leader of the Mystic Knights knew that the bulk of the battle was further away.

“Ivar!” he called out, getting the prince’s attention. “Stay with Angus, make sure Maeve’s soldiers don’t get to him. I’ll go and help Deirdre.”

The knight in the blue armour nodded, but before Rohan had made more than a few steps, he halted again abruptly as a brightly glowing projectile was shot from somewhere in between the shifting mass of soldiers and directly hit Tyrune.

The beast howled out in pain, causing numerous heads to turn up to it, and, after getting hit by Pyre once more, it turned tail and flew away as fast as it could.

Cheers erupted from the Kells men beneath, as Temra’s troops appeared increasingly disheartened. From somewhere in the crowd Rohan could hear Torc shouting, trying to rally his men again, but to no avail; several of the soldiers were already abandoning the battle and running.

Maeve overlooked the battlefield, seething with anger as she knew she had lost.

Tyrune and the Sentinels had fled, the serpent was destroyed and Angus had fallen into her enemies’ hands. Though she had complete faith in her spell over him and knew that her war against Kells was far from over, this battle she had to give up, if she didn’t want to lose all of her forces.

With a grim expression the queen motioned to the soldier still standing close to her, holding a horn, and upon her command he immediately gave the signal for the army to retreat.

 

* * *

 

The castle gate was opened to welcome the returning heroes of Kells.

King Conchobar stood in the centre of the courtyard, surrounded by the guards who had stayed behind to defend the castle and awaited the arrival of his daughter, the other Mystic Knights and the rest of his forces.

Cathbad was standing by his side, showing clear signs of relief about the victory, but also concern when he saw the great number of injured soldiers. He excused himself to the king and immediately began to tend to the wounded, assisted by several of the castle guards.

The courtyard was already quite stuffed with soldiers, and more were still coming through the gate, when all of them suddenly moved aside to clear a path. King Conchobar, who had been speaking to one of the men, took a sharp breath of surprise when he realised for whom the soldiers were making way.

Princess Deirdre, still in her new armour, was passing the gate at this moment, followed closely by Rohan and Ivar, who were carrying a limp figure between them.

“Deirdre! Thank Dagda that you are alive and well.” Conchobar had hurried towards his daughter and was now standing directly in front of her, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders. A relieved smile brightened his features as he looked her up and down, but his eyebrows furrowed slightly in surprise as he really noticed the armour she was wearing for the first time now.

“You are wearing a mystic armour, but how is that possible? I thought you hadn’t received a new weapon prior to the battle.”

Deirdre shook her head, still very upset about the circumstances under which she had proclaimed her mystic weapon.

“I hadn’t, but apparently Fin Varra finally decided that I had proven myself worthy to be a Mystic Knight again in the middle of all the fighting. Only a little too late, I’m afraid.” She turned her head to look at the man in the black clothes with the equally black hair, still being carried by Rohan and Ivar. The king followed her movement and inhaled audibly as his eyes fell on the former thief.

“Angus! Is he dead?”

Rohan looked up at the question and answered quickly, barely concealed anger in his voice.

“No, he isn’t. Although Deirdre certainly tried.”

“Rohan, this really isn’t…”

“No, Ivar, it’s alright.” The princess cut off Ivar’s objection, then focused back on the leader of the Mystic Knights. “It’s true, I didn’t hold back with my attack, because in contrast to what you still want to believe, Rohan, I finally realised that Angus has been dead a long time now. If only I had received my new weapon a little sooner, at least I would have been able to stop this man, this... monster he has become from killing Ulric in cold blood.”

Rohan seemed to want to reply something to that, but Cathbad joined the group at this point and cut any further arguments short.

“Whatever Angus’ condition might be now, you have to take him to the dungeons. I will tend to his injuries as soon as I can, but he is most certainly too dangerous to treat him in my chamber or here. And, as I might add, this is not exactly the right place to discuss any of this further, anyway.”

The Mystic Knights, suddenly very aware of their surroundings, fully realised now that they were still in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by a large part of the army, so their argument had been anything but private.

Rohan and Deirdre glared at each other one last time, before both of them continued on their way; the princess headed towards the throne room with her father to discuss the battle further and Rohan brought Angus to the castle’s dungeon with Ivar’s help. At least, he thought with a wry smile, Angus would be waking up to a familiar sight after all.

 

* * *

 

“A few bruised ribs, but nothing seems to be broken. Of course I cannot tell for sure until he wakes up, but I am fairly certain that Angus will be physically fine,” Cathbad announced to King Conchobar, Rohan and Ivar, who were standing outside the dungeon cell the former thief was being held captive in.

“Good, and now that we’ve finally managed to capture him and he can’t threaten anyone anymore, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a way to break Maeve’s spell. After all, we’ve got time now; you can try to mix some new potions, Cathbad, and maybe we could even contact some of our allies. There’s got to be some magic strong enough to help Angus _somewhere_ , we just don’t know about it yet.”

King Conchobar contemplated Rohan’s suggestion for a moment and eventually nodded in agreement, much to the blond man’s relief.

“I agree. Although I still stand by my former decision, I will not execute a prisoner who can not be held responsible for his actions, at least as long as he does not pose a threat to Kells anymore. I want a guard here and at the dungeon entrance day and night; but as long as Angus is confined, we will do everything in our power to find a way to save him.”

Rohan nodded to the king gratefully. He knew the frictions between him, King Conchobar and Cathbad would have to be addressed sooner or later, but for now he was satisfied by the fact that Angus was still alive and willing to concentrate on the problems ahead of them.

His relationship to Deirdre was actually causing him more of a headache than those to his ruler and to his former master. The princess had not come down here to see Angus yet, and after what had transpired on the battlefield, Rohan wasn’t sure she ever would.

He, too, had witnessed from afar his friend murdering the soldier of Kells, and it still sent an icy feeling down his spine just to think about it, but it hadn’t changed Rohan’s resolution to save Angus’ life one bit.

He knew that as soon as Maeve’s spell was lifted, this deed would weigh heavily on the other man’s conscience, but that was something they would deal with when the time had come.

Although, Rohan had to admit to himself, for one moment there he had been willing to use deadly force if necessary. When Angus had approached Deirdre with that murderous look on his face, he had known that the time for games had been over for the dark haired man. He had been prepared to kill the princess like he had just killed Ulric moments ago and Rohan had been ready to stop him, whatever the cost. The Mystic Knight of Fire was just glad that he had been able to separate the two without further bloodshed.

Cathbad’s voice suddenly pulled Rohan out of his thoughts.

“I will begin working on an experimental potion as soon as I have finished overseeing the treatment of our injured soldiers. But Rohan’s idea of seeking outside help might actually be more promising, as I cannot think of a different potion or spell than what I already tried.”

“In that case I will send messengers to our allies immediately to ask for their assistance. Then there is only left to hope that a solution can indeed be found.” With that, King Conchobar turned around and left the dungeon, closely followed by Cathbad.

Rohan closed the cell door after the druid had left and locked it with a heavy heart. They might have captured Angus for now, but it hadn’t actually brought them any closer to freeing him from Maeve’s control, and he was worried about how long it would take until help could arrive, if there would even be any.

 

* * *

 

Deirdre stood at a window in a deserted corridor of the castle where she had a good view over the courtyard. She had changed back into her usual leather garb and was watching with sad eyes as soldiers carried biers bearing the dead through the gate.

It weren’t nearly as many as she had feared, but every single soldier they had lost was one too many and the fact that she had personally known one of them and even felt somehow responsible for his death wasn’t helping, either.

“Here you are, Deirdre; I’ve been searching for you.” Rohan’s voice came from behind her all of a sudden, proving how deep in thought the princess had been, that she had not heard his approach.

“Looks like you found me then. What do you want?” she asked, still irritated about their earlier argument.

“Please don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

Rohan sighed, his exhaustion showing.

“Like you don’t care anymore. Angus is your friend, too, and only a few days ago you assured me that we wouldn’t give up on him, no matter how long it takes to find a way to counter Maeve’s spell. And now that we’ve finally managed to bring him back to Kells, you’re just standing here and pretend that he doesn’t matter to you anymore.”

“Look out here, Rohan,” Deirdre simply replied, still not having turned around.

“Why, what is there to see?” he asked, wary of where this was going.

“Just do it, please.”

In the end, the blond man stepped next to the princess and followed her request to look outside. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he realised what was happening below.

“I thought we could save him, Rohan, I really did,” Deirdre admitted in a choked-up tone, “but I’ve seen that man murder somebody in cold blood and I just know that Angus isn’t in there anymore. Letting yourself believe otherwise is only going to get you hurt. As much as it pains me to say this, but my father was right. Angus is gone.”

Rohan shook his head, not wanting to accept Deirdre’s words.

“No, he’s not! He’s downstairs in the dungeon, still unconscious after your attack, and waiting for us to finally free him from the evil that’s controlling him.” He ran a hand across his face wearily before continuing.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what Torc said, that no magic could break Maeve’s spell. So what if magic really is useless, what if we have to try something else?”

“Like what? Hitting him hard enough until he comes back to his senses?”

Rohan stared at the princess slightly taken aback and raised an eyebrow at her unexpected proposition.

“Not that I think violence is generally a solution,” Deirdre conceded, “but you have to agree that Angus’ behaviour sometimes calls for it, spell or no spell.”

The leader of the Mystic Knights smiled at that, a small part of him silently agreeing, although he would never admit it out loud. Either way he was glad that the mood had somehow lightened up a little.

“No, that’s not what I had in mind. But I thought that maybe, if _we_ are not able to break Maeve’s control, maybe Angus is.”

“Excuse me? How?” the princess wondered, completely taken aback by Rohan’s suggestion. “He’s been attacking us all this time and I’ve never seen any sign of him hesitating or not following Maeve’s command to the letter. Torc also said that she put a lot of energy and effort into this spell, so I doubt that anyone would be able to break free from it on their own. And I’m not sure if I would call Angus especially strong-willed.”

“Well, he’s stubborn as a mule; you’ve got to give him that.”

Now it was Deirdre’s turn to smile at Rohan’s words.

“True, but still, Rohan, I doubt that that’s enough.”

The blond man nodded, completely serious again.

“I know. But if we can get through to Angus, make him see how upside down everything he suddenly believes really is, maybe it will have an effect. And if we manage to loosen Maeve’s control just a little bit, maybe Cathbad’s potion will work after all.

I know that are an awful lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’, but I guess it’s the only thing we can try without further help.”

Deirdre finally nodded in agreement.

“Alright. I guess it won’t hurt to at least give it a try. Now that Angus is behind bars we can at least be sure that he won’t attack anyone anymore, and that’s the most important thing to me.”

Rohan wanted to reply something to that, but thought better of it. He was just glad that he had managed to calm the waves between him and Deirdre after the way they had separated before. He knew that he would never have made it through the past few weeks without the princess at his side and he couldn’t even bear the thought of losing her friendship over all of this now.

After making sure they were alone in the corridor, Rohan reached out and took Deirdre’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly, a sad smile on his lips.

“What happened today will never repeat itself, I promise. But you know that as long as there is still a chance, no matter how small, I cannot give up on Angus. I owe him too much for that.”

“Yes, I know, but that is exactly what scares me the most about all this. You’re just sometimes too righteous for your own good, Rohan.” The princess had unconsciously stepped closer to the man in front of her, forcing herself to look almost straight up to see his face.

Rohan, who was smiling about her unusual criticism, marvelled at the sight of Deirdre’s beautiful face so close to his and without even realising it, he lifted his free hand and traced the line of her jaw gently with the tips of his thumb. His heart was racing in his chest as he became mesmerised by the princess’ blue eyes and moved even closer, their lips almost touching.

Time seemed to be standing still as a hundred reasons to stop this immediately shot through Deirdre’s mind, none of them having any effect whatsoever.

However, the sound of footsteps and the loud chatter of several guards heading towards them had, much to the chagrin of both Rohan and Deirdre.

They pulled apart immediately and resumed a more appropriate distance, the princess blushing visibly.

When the soldiers had passed, after thanking both Mystic Knights, especially Deirdre, for their efforts in the battle, the moment of closeness had passed with them and left an awkward silence in its wake. Rohan quickly excused himself to talk to Cathbad about his idea, while the princess decided that it couldn’t hurt to put it to the test immediately, so she headed down to the dungeon.

 

* * *

 

“Are you certain it is wise for you to be alone with him?” Ivar asked in a concerned tone, looking from Deirdre to Angus, who had woken up a while ago and was now sitting on the bunk in his cell.

“Maybe not ‘wise’, but I just have to do this on my own, Ivar, please understand that.”

The foreign prince hesitated a long moment, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Deirdre alone with the man who had wanted to kill her only a few hours ago, but ultimately nodded and headed towards the stairs.

“Alright, but I will be right outside. Call for me if he tries anything.”

Both Deirdre and Angus watched the blue clad man leave, the latter getting up from his position simultaneously to face the shorter woman directly.

“Oh, but why would he think that I would try anything? After all it’s such an honour to get a visit from the princess and newly declared war heroine of Kells. I can’t think of any reason to try and sabotage that.”

Deirdre almost shuddered at the derision seeping through each of his words, but did her best to suppress it. She had had enough encounters with this Angus already to be prepared for his taunting.

“I’m not here to talk about the battle. I’m just here because Rohan has this crazy idea that somewhere in there you’re actually still the man you used to be. That Maeve hasn’t completely destroyed you with her magic, although I doubt that.”

To Deirdre’s genuine surprise and irritation, Angus started to laugh at this, his expression clearly amused.

“You and Rohan always keep saying something about a spell or some magic Maeve used on me, but you never once thought of the possibility that I _chose_ this. That I chose to serve the rightful queen who saved my life, rather than fight for a false king with those who betrayed me.”

“Betrayed you?” Deirdre echoed incredulously, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes, or did you already forget it, the fight on the cliffs?” the dark haired man asked in return, but received no answer.

The princess swallowed hard as her mind raced back to that day; after all, that battle was still the greatest regret of her life.

Angus lowered his voice as he continued, but his words pierced through the silence in the small room easily and hit Deirdre completely off guard.

“Do you know what I kept thinking when we fought against the Sentinels? When I was wounded and losing so much blood that I could hardly keep myself upright? I kept thinking ‘just a little longer. I just have to keep fighting a little longer and then the others will come to help me. After all we’re a team, we’re friends, they wouldn’t let me down like this.’”

Deirdre had turned away from Angus by now, his words cutting into her like a knife, but he went on nevertheless.

“But that’s exactly what you did; all of you. You let me down and I fell, I nearly died! Do you want to know what it was like? How my armour pulled me down and I was sinking deeper and deeper into the ice cold water? How I tried to call for help only to have the water fill my lungs so I couldn’t breathe anymore? I remember making the mystic armour disappear, but then I thought ‘that’s it, I’m dead’. And you know what the really ironic thing about all this is?” Angus wondered, chuckling humourlessly. “The very last thing on my mind, right before I lost consciousness was ‘I hope the others are alright,’ when you didn’t even care about what happened to me.”

“That’s not true!” Deirdre finally protested. “We searched for you everywhere. Rohan flew on Pyre across half the island, looking for you in the water and on every shore.” The princess had come very close to the cell by now and was laying her hands on the bars as she looked directly at Angus.

“We did _not_ abandon you! And if you weren’t under Maeve’s spell, you would never believe that, either.” She was desperate to make Angus see the truth, but he used her efforts to his advantage as he suddenly stepped right in front of the young woman and grabbed her through the bars, pulling her against him.

Deirdre cried out in surprise and shock and struggled against the former thief, but his hold on her was too strong for her to break free. They stared into each other’s eyes and for the first time since Angus was fighting for Temra, Deirdre was genuinely afraid of him.

“Oh, I’m sure you felt sorry for what you did,” Angus agreed, his voice dangerously low. “I bet you even cried, didn’t you? Over the dear friend you had lost? But in the end, I guess, I should actually thank you, because now I have found my true place in life. I will tear this illegitimate kingdom apart,” he bowed his head a little so he was even closer to Deirdre, almost whispering into her ear, “starting with _you_.”

Deirdre’s breath caught in her throat as the utter seriousness of Angus’ words became clear to her. Luckily she didn’t have to find out what he was planning to do to her, though, as an angry voice suddenly interrupted the tense silence.

“What are you doing there? Let her go!” It was Ivar, who had just entered the dungeon and was now rushing towards Angus’ cell to pull the princess away from him. He had raised his trident and was aiming it at his former friend, shaking slightly from both shock and anger, while the inmate of the cell actually had the boldness to look at him challengingly.

“Go on, Ivar, shoot me! I dare you. After all I nearly hurt your precious little princess.”

However, it was Deirdre who forced Ivar’s weapon down and did her best to diffuse the situation.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m fine, I just realised that it’s no use to try and talk some sense back into him. And you,” she turned back to Angus now, staring at him defiantly, “if you’re ever yourself again, I know you’ll hate yourself enough for this and everything you’ve done, so I’ll do my best and try not to blame you for it.”

The dark haired man looked back at the princess, visibly amused by her characteristic stubbornness. He leaned against the bars, making Deirdre flinch back nearly unnoticeably.

“But I _am_ myself, Princess. You just don’t want to accept it.”

A moment of silence passed between them, before Deirdre finally turned around and headed out of the dungeon.

“We’ll see about that,” she whispered more to herself than the former thief and left without looking back, having had enough of his mind games for one day.

Ivar stayed behind for a moment. He scrutinised Angus silently, only to be met with a malicious smile, but without letting himself be disconcerted by it.

“You think you’re invulnerable because we used to be friends, right?” he asked, addressing the man in the cell in a calm manner. “But as much as I would hate to do it, if you ever touch Deirdre, or any other citizen of Kells for that matter, again, I _will_ hurt or even kill you, depending on how much of a fight you put up.”

Ivar’s words were completely heartfelt, but Angus chuckled briefly in reply, utterly unimpressed.

“Now look at you, pretending that you actually belong here, that you are a part of this kingdom, isn’t that adorable? Well, once you had failed your own people you probably had to find a new place to stay, so I guess that shouldn’t really be surprising.”

Ivar tried to remain calm, but Angus knew he had struck a nerve there.

“I might not be a part of this kingdom, but that doesn’t keep me from protecting the people I love, my friends. You used to do that once, too.”

“My love belongs only to my Queen.”

“ _Right_. Keep telling yourself that if you like. But if you ever come back to your senses again, I hope you remember how you treated the people who actually care about you.” With that, the blue clad prince turned around and left the dungeon as well, leaving Angus to himself.

 

**To be continued…**


	18. Bad Moon Rising

When Deirdre left the dungeon she was still distraught from her confrontation with Angus. The princess had thought that she had finally accepted the Mystic Knight of Earth being their enemy, but his sudden and vicious attack had shocked her more than she could have ever expected.

The young woman was just glad that Ivar had arrived in time, because even though she had assured him that she was fine, she didn’t even dare to think about what could have happened had he entered the dungeon a few minutes later.

Deirdre was on her way to her chamber now, to get some rest after this eventful day, but just as she was walking around a corner, Rohan almost ran into her, as he was going in the opposite direction.

The blond man smiled at the princess, but the smile faded quickly as he saw her troubled expression.

“Deirdre, is everything alright? You seem… unsettled.”

“Rohan! Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s just… I’ve been to see Angus and our ‘conversation’ didn’t go exactly as planned.” She tried to sound as calm as she could manage, but was not very convincing.

“What happened? What did he do? Did he hurt you?” Rohan asked with clear concern, but Deirdre shook her head, not wanting him to worry about her.

“Nothing happened. Angus was just… being difficult. Out of all the traits he used to have, of course this is the one he had to keep.” The princess added the last sentence with a forced smile, trying to reassure Rohan, but the Mystic Knight of Fire still frowned slightly at her.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to him so soon after what happened today. But whatever Angus said, just… don’t let him get to you, alright?” the blond man said softly as he gently laid a hand on Deirdre’s arm in a caring gesture.

The princess sighed, some of the tension in her dissipating.

“I’ll try.” Exhausted, Deirdre rubbed a hand across her eyes and relaxed visibly, clearly more at ease in Rohan’s presence.

“Ivar is still downstairs talking to him, but I don’t think it will do much good. I guess if anyone can get through to Angus, it’s you. But even though I really hope that you can achieve more than we did, you shouldn’t expect any cooperation on his part.

I for one have had enough of Angus for today, but maybe a good night’s sleep will give me enough resolution to speak to him again tomorrow.” The princess looked at the blond man in front of her hesitantly, wanting to say something more to him, but ultimately decided that this wasn’t the time or the place for it. In the end she just went for a simple,

“Good night, Rohan.”

After smiling weakly at her fellow Mystic Knight, Deirdre made her way up the nearest flight of stairs and vanished in the direction of her chambers.

“Good night, Princess.” Rohan stood unmoving for a moment and looked after her, but as soon as Deirdre had left his sight, he turned around and went to the dungeon entrance, only to be met by an angry Ivar, storming out of the door at this moment.

The foreign prince was in an even worse mood than the princess had been and almost rushed past Rohan in his anger, had the blond man not called after him.

“Ivar, tell me, what did Angus do? Deirdre was acting strange already and now you, too? What happened?”

The Mystic Knight of Water stared at Rohan and hesitated a moment before answering, clearly needing the time to calm himself down a little.

“You want to know what happened? Angus attacked Deirdre, that is what happened.”

Rohan’s face immediately darkened at this statement, causing Ivar to continue in a hurry.

“Don’t worry, nothing happened to her, because I was there in time, but that man down there in the cell is far more dangerous than we could have anticipated. If we had captured Maeve herself she wouldn’t be behaving as viciously.”

“We knew the spell Angus is under is very strong. It might not seem like it, but I’m sure his real self is still in there somewhere and we cannot give up trying and reach him. He’s still our friend and although I know he’s not going to make this easy, it’s the only thing we can do for now.” Rohan desperately wanted to get Ivar’s approval for his plan, but the blue clad prince shook his head with a grim expression.

“I think trying to talk to Angus is nothing more than a waste of our time and energy. Trust me, Rohan, nothing good is going to come out of this.”

“Alright, I’ll do it alone, then.” The blonde man nodded, disappointed that Ivar would give up this fast, but more determined than ever not to let his best friend down.

He turned away from the foreign prince and finally headed through the door to the dungeon, preparing himself for the less than pleasant company Angus was apparently providing at the moment.

When Rohan entered the dungeon, his footsteps on the stairs echoed loudly in the silence, getting the attention of the man in the cell.

Angus was leaning against the bars casually, grinning just as he had done all those times Rohan had visited him during his previous stays here in the past.

“Now look at that, the mighty warrior Draganta finally found the time to pay me a visit. I was almost disappointed that you weren’t the first to come and see me, to spout some nonsense about the value of our friendship and to question my loyalty to my Queen or something like that. Instead you had Deirdre try her luck. Interesting choice, I have to admit that.”

Rohan, who was standing in front of the cell now, crossed his arms in front of his chest and answered rather reluctantly.

“I hadn’t known that she went to talk to you right away. I guess it really is for the best if we keep this between the two of us.”

Angus laughed at Rohan’s words and faced the blond man directly now.

“So what do you want to do, huh? Give me a motivational speech? You cannot possibly believe that your words will have any effect on my faith and devotion to my Queen, can you? Deirdre tried that already and she had to learn her lesson the hard way.” He smiled sardonically at the memory of the fear in the young woman’s eyes.

Anger flared up in Rohan briefly as he remembered the princess’ distraught appearance and wondered once more what exactly had transpired between her and Angus, but he regained his composure rather quickly.

He knew that the former thief was just trying to provoke him and he had vowed to himself not to let that happen.

“I’m here because we’re friends and I refuse to believe that everything you’ve ever been has been erased by Maeve, no matter what you or the others say.”

Angus rolled his eyes in response as he threw his hands into the air.

“This again? When will you all finally accept that things between us have changed for good? We’re on opposing sides now, you against me. But if you want to settle this, just give me a sword, open the door and we’ll see who remains standing.”

“There has been more than enough fighting for my taste lately. I’ll pass,” the Mystic Knight of Fire answered truthfully. He was sick and tired already of having to face his friend in battle. Angus, however, clearly didn’t share this attitude, as he sighed in disappointment.

“You’re such a spoilsport, Rohan. I’ve got to admit, messing with the princess was much more fun than this.”

Although Rohan had promised himself not to let the former thief’s taunting get to him, the repeated mention of Angus’ earlier confrontation with the young woman finally broke through his restraint.

“Leave Deirdre alone, do you understand me?”

The unexpected forcefulness of the order left both men in startled silence for a moment, but the Temra fighter recovered first, a grin spreading on his lips at the bluntness of his former friend.

“So protective all of a sudden. I see, you still haven’t given up on your feelings for her, have you?”

“That’s none of your business and it’s not what I came here to talk about,” Rohan pointed out, irritated.

“Right,” Angus replied with a cold chuckle. “After all, it’s not as if you’d ever have a chance with her anyway. Princesses don’t choose men like you, Rohan. Because you can play the hero all you want, at the end of the day you’re still just an orphan off of the streets who was lucky enough to become a druid’s apprentice. And not even a very good one, if I might add.”

Rohan stayed quiet, so Angus continued with a grin spreading on his lips.

“You think you’re special because you’re Draganta, but the world will not change just because you got that fancy name. You will neither have _her_ , nor will you be able to save your precious Kells. Surrender, that’s the only way there will be peace.”

“Says the man behind bars,” Rohan replied sarcastically. Then he continued in a more serious tone.

“Actually, I think we’re on a pretty good way to winning the war soon. We have beaten Maeve’s army, captured you and with Deirdre’s new weapon the Mystic Knights are stronger than ever before, even without your help.”

“Enjoy your small victory while it lasts. Temra will never surrender and as long as only one man stands faithfully to the rightful Queen of this island, justice will prevail in the end.”

“ _Justice_?” Rohan asked incredulously, not believing what he was hearing.

“It is Queen Maeve’s birthright to rule over this entire island and the war will not end until both Temra and Kells are united under her banner,” Angus answered confidently, causing Rohan to shake his head in disbelief.

“It is still astounding that you actually believe what you’re saying, even though I know the effect Maeve’s spell has on you.”

Now it was the former thief who couldn’t believe the other’s words. Rolling his eyes, he gripped the bars of his cell tightly and stared hard at the leader of the Mystic Knights.

“There is no spell! Doesn’t that go into that thick skull of yours? Queen Maeve saved my life and my stay in Temra made me realise that I had been fighting on the wrong side all this time. If you were able to see past your own ignorance you would know that I am right. Now let us settle this argument once and for all. Get me that potion Cathbad made for Garrett once. I’ll drink it and maybe then you will finally accept the truth.”

Rohan looked at his friend for a moment in silence, still surprised at the faith and determination he was showing, although he knew he should be expecting it by now. Finally he shook his head and answered, his frustration seeping into his voice.

“We tried that already, but Maeve got better with her magic. The spell can’t be removed that easily.”

Angus, who had clearly not expected this answer, looked very taken aback.

“You tried that already? So you made me drink the potion? But… when?” Angus frowned, trying to think of an opportunity Rohan might have had to do that. After a few moments, realisation dawned on his face.

“The feast in Temra Castle? That drink Torc gave me; I knew that it tasted weird.” He looked at the blond man for confirmation of that theory and the expression on his face provided more than enough.

“So Torc is working with the enemy now? I knew he was a pathetic excuse for a warrior, but I’d never expected him to be a traitor, as well. Oh, my return to Temra will be interesting, that is for sure.”

Angus had started walking up and down his small cell, completely ignoring Rohan at the moment, to the blond man’s great irritation. After a little while the leader of the Mystic Knights had had enough of that and spoke with determination to get the former thief’s attention again.

“You will _not_ return to Temra, Angus. You won’t even leave this cell again, at least not while you’re still under Maeve’s control.”

With an angry glare at his former friend, Angus now returned to the front of his cell, his voice dangerously low as he spoke.

“Listen to me carefully, Rohan. If you really think these bars will be enough to keep me here, you are even more naïve than I always thought you were. Sooner or later I will return home to Temra and you better hope that no-one whose life you value will get in my way when I do.”

The undisguised threat hung in the air heavily and Rohan had to take a deep breath to be able to give a sensible answer to it.

“Maybe the others were right and talking to you won’t do any good, but I promise you, Angus, I will make sure you’ll be yourself again soon, even if it’s the last thing I’m doing.”

With that, the Mystic Knight of Fire left the dungeon, almost as angry and shaken as Deirdre and Ivar had been earlier.

 

* * *

 

As Princess Deirdre got ready to go to bed, her mind kept wandering back to everything that had happened today, leaving her feeling even more overwhelmed than before. The battle, the violent death of Ulric at Angus’ hands she had had to witness, the new weapon she had received, her argument with Rohan and the confrontation in the dungeon not even an hour ago.

However, even though all of these events had been intense enough to keep her mind occupied for days, the moment she kept thinking about the most was her reconciliation with Rohan.

Deirdre blushed slightly in the dim light of her room as she remembered the feeling of his hand on her skin and she wished for the umpteenth time that they had been left uninterrupted at least for a few more seconds.

Rohan had been about to kiss her, she was sure of it, and even now the princess was still helpless against the excitement that had build in her stomach in that moment and was stubbornly refusing to go away ever since.

She had wanted to talk to Rohan about it when they had met outside the dungeon earlier, but there had been other things on his mind and Deirdre had thought it unfair to distract him while he was still worrying about Angus.

Maybe tomorrow there would be a more appropriate time to talk about what had happened between them, because even though the princess knew that Rohan was probably not the perfect match her father had in mind for her, she was not going to ignore her feelings for him any longer now that she knew he was reciprocating them.

As the young woman got underneath the covers of her bed and blew out the candle on the nightstand beside her, her mind started wandering again, but this time into a possible future with Rohan by her side. After all, what better way was there for Draganta to bring peace to Kells for a hundred lifetimes than by becoming its king?

A soft smile formed on Deirdre’s lips as she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts positive and hopeful for the first time in weeks.

 

* * *

 

It was shortly after midnight and almost everyone in the castle, except for the guards on night watch, had already gone to sleep hours ago. Only the prisoner in the dungeon below the castle was still awake, waiting until the time was right for him to make his move.

Angus had been lying on his wooden bunk silent and unmoving for quite a long time now and he was sure the guard sitting outside his cell thought him asleep. His fingers slowly traced over the plain metal ring he was wearing on his left hand and his mind went back to the moment Maeve had given it to him.

_The queen of Temra was sitting on her throne and looked at the man standing in front of her. She had just finished outlining several battle tactics for the next day and was about to finish her explanations._

_“I am certain our attack on Kells tomorrow will be successful, but in light of the unsuspected defeats we have suffered in the past, I thought it wise to be prepared even for the worst case. You know how the Mystic Knights foolishly believe they can undermine your loyalty to me, so I am sure that in the unlikely event of their victory they will go to great lengths to capture you alive.”_

_Angus was about to object to that, but the queen silenced him with a small gesture._

_“Should we really lose, that is exactly what I want them to do. Mider will grant me a lot of his power for the battle, but if even that combined with the strength of my forces does not ensure Temra’s victory, we will have to resort to a different tactic. I can hardly imagine our attack to become a failure, but should it turn out that way, I want you inside Kells Castle.”_

_Maeve reached out to the small table standing beside her throne and took something from it which she then gave to Angus. I was a small plain steal band that hardly seemed to be of any value or significance at all, but the queen handed it over very carefully, stirring the former thief’s curiosity._

_“This ring has been enchanted by Mider, giving it the ability to unlock any door one might encounter. Just turn it twice on your finger and every lock within three feet distance will open immediately.”_

_Angus slipped the ring on his finger right away and for a moment a very small part of him actually hoped that the battle would be lost, just so he could get to use this magnificent tool._

_“I want the royal house of Kells dead and should we not succeed in achieving that on the battlefield, I want you to take them out within the walls of their own castle. Strike when they least expect it, when they believe themselves safe. That way no one in Kells will ever forget that it’s impossible to escape my reach.”_

The sound of his guard moving pulled Angus back to the present. The soldier had pulled a knife out of his belt and was using it now to cut an apple into several pieces before putting it back carefully. He was concentrating on his scarce meal and Angus knew that this was probably his best choice as far as distractions were concerned. He had to make his move now if he wanted to be able to get to the guard before he could call for help.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bunk, the former thief sat up without making a sound and simultaneously turned the ring on his finger twice just as he had been instructed.

The lock of the door made a soft clicking noise that was clearly audible in the otherwise silent room and caught the guard’s attention. He looked up, slightly confused and noticed that Angus had stood up and was heading towards the door of his cell.

“What was that noise? What did you do?”

The former thief gave him a knowing smile and mocked the soldier with his response.

“Oh, that? That was only the sign for you to go to sleep.”

The look of confusion intensified on the other’s face, but quickly turned into shock as Angus suddenly pushed his cell door open and lunged at his opponent. His fist hit the guard’s jaw in a forceful blow, sending his head crashing against the wall, before the soldier slummed out of his chair and to the ground, out cold.

Angus took his sword and also the knife from his belt before he pulled the unconscious man into the now empty cell. After he had closed the door, he looked at the ring on his finger thoughtfully.

“I wonder if this works the other way around, too,” he muttered to himself and turned the ring again twice, hoping it would lock the door this time, but nothing happened.

“Well, I guess that would have been too much to ask.” As Angus looked around, he ultimately spotted the keys to the door on the small table in the corner and used them to lock the cell once again to keep his guard from sounding the alarm once he woke up. Then he headed up the stairs and crouched down in front of the door leading to the rest of the castle to look through the keyhole.

A grin spread on Angus’ lips as he could see the soldier guarding this door sitting in a chair, sound asleep. His escape was turning out to be much easier than he had expected and the dark haired man nearly laughed out loud at the thought that in the end, the Kingdom of Kells would have only its own laziness to thank for its downfall.

After using the magic ring on the lock, Angus opened the door silently and stepped out into the corridor. He quickly looked around to see if anyone else was in the vicinity, but luckily he was alone aside from the man in the chair.

He approached the sleeping soldier carefully and, while pressing one hand on the man’s mouth to keep him from screaming, he simultaneously hauled him to his feet and dragged him towards the open door in front of him, where he threw the guard down the stairs without a second’s hesitation.

The Temra fighter quickly carried the now unconscious soldier to his comrade in the cell and then re-locked it and the door leading out of the dungeon with the key he had taken from him. Once all of that was taken care of, Angus started to make his way through the castle he knew so well, avoiding all the spots where the guards were positioned at night, and headed straight for his first target.

 

* * *

 

Rohan was lying in his bed in the hut he used to share with Angus and stared at the dark ceiling, his thoughts wandering back to his imprisoned friend constantly, denying him any sleep.

Their earlier conversation kept replaying in his mind and he wondered if he could have said or done anything differently to prevent it from getting as out of hand as it had. Because regardless of the outcome of his visit, the Mystic Knight of Fire was just as certain that Angus could still be saved as he had been before, if only he could find a way to reach him.

Sighing, Rohan sat up to get a drink of water from the mug on the table, but froze as his eyes fell on all the things belonging to his friend that were lying around everywhere.

When they had thought him dead, Rohan had, after several days, finally found the strength to gather Angus’ possessions, stacking everything in a neat pile on his vacated bed.

The things had still been there when they had found out that against all odds the former thief was still alive, and that same night Rohan had gone on to put everything back exactly where it had been before, even the dirty sock from under the bed, vowing to himself to make sure that his friend would return home soon, to find everything just as he had left it.

Finally dismissing the thought of sleep for the moment, Rohan got dressed again, settling for just a shirt and his brown vest, as he was in a hurry to leave his hut in the direction of Kells Castle. Almost as an afterthought he also took the sword of Kells and strapped it over his shoulder as always, but its weight did not give him the sense of security it usually did.

After all, if he wanted to get through to Angus, a sword would not be of much help.

 

* * *

 

Just in time to avoid being seen by a passing soldier, Angus ducked into a storage room and, after a moment of waiting, continued on his way unimpeded. Just one more corridor separated him from his target, and as he carefully glanced around the corner, the former thief spotted only one guard in front of the door to the royal chamber, merely a few feet from his position.

For a moment he contemplated simply killing the man, but until he had accomplished his mission Angus wanted to maintain as much of a low profile as possible, and a pool of blood in the middle of the corridor hardly qualified as that. So instead of drawing his stolen sword against the soldier, he looked around for any possible way to distract him and noticed the door opposite from his current position.

Through his countless experiences of running away from the castle guards throughout his life, Angus knew that the small door let to a storage room, but also remembered that it had been locked most of the times he had wanted to hide in there. Grinning, he turned the ring on his finger and heard the noise of the lock clicking open with satisfaction.

The guard must have heard it as well, as he abandoned his post to find the source of the distraction. However, as soon as he had opened the door, Angus was suddenly behind him and wrapped an arm around the soldier’s throat, choking him. It didn’t take long for the man to lose consciousness. The former thief laid him down on the ground of the dusty storage room, before he returned to the corridor and closed the door, leaving no sign that anyone had ever been guarding this hallway in the first place.

With the last obstacle out of his way, Angus quietly slipped into the dark royal chamber. He closed the heavy door behind him as silently as possible and turned the key in the lock as a precaution while his eyes were adjusting to the dim light in the room. Luckily the moon was almost full and was casting its light into the windows, illuminating everything just enough for him to find his way easily.

Without making a noise, the former thief moved slowly towards the large bed at the far side of the chamber, staying clear of any furniture standing in his way in the process. As he came closer he could finally make out the person sleeping in the bed. The beautiful face of Princess Deirdre was half buried into the pillows, her left arm lying across the cover, the rest of her delicate frame hidden from view.

Angus unsheathed the plain soldier sword he was carrying as he stepped next to the bed and looked down at his target for a long moment. Her beauty had always fascinated him, but neither that nor the fact that they had been friends once had any impact on his resolution to finally kill the young woman, just like he had promised both her and his Queen.

He raised the blade over Deirdre’s sleeping form and took in her peaceful expression one last time.

“So long, Princess!” he whispered, ready to fulfil his mission.

Angus was just about to stab down with the weapon, when a series of events suddenly happened in quick succession. At first, several agitated voices could be heard from the corridor outside, then the door handle was turned in vain and in the next moment the wooden door was almost torn out of its hinges, as Rohan broke it open by throwing his full weight against it.

The loud noise ripped Deirdre out of her sleep in an instant and the eyes of the princess widened as she stared up at the armed man standing beside her bed.

For a second everyone in the room froze as they stared at each other, before Rohan quickly removed the strap over his shoulder and unsheathed the sword of Kells.

“I told you to leave her alone, Angus. I did everything I could to save you, because we’re friends, we’re _brothers_ , but you’re mad and dangerous and I’ve ignored that for far too long. I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you before you do something you wouldn’t want to live with anyway.”

Desperation was more than evident in Rohan’s voice, but Angus was not in the mood for any more talking.

“Spare me the dramatics, please. If you’re here to actually fight me for real, I’m ready.” The dark clad man turned away from the bed with the princess and advanced on Rohan, his stolen weapon held up, prepared to strike.

The Mystic Knight of Fire moved further into the room and he and Angus began circling each other as much as their confined surroundings allowed it.

The room was still only dimly lit by the moonlight shining through the large windows, and while some light was now also coming in through the open door from the corridor, most of it was blocked by the soldiers standing in the doorway. They had been alerted by the loud noise of Rohan breaking through the heavy wooden door, but didn’t dare to enter the princess’ chamber while the two Mystic Knights were facing each other.

It was Angus, who attacked first, swinging his sword at the blond man, but Rohan evaded the blade and instead tried to shove his opponent backwards. However, the former thief’s reflexes allowed him to pull back just in time.

The battle between the two men was fought ferociously, none of them holding back any longer as they tried to hit their enemy.

Meanwhile, Deirdre had gotten out of bed and quickly pulled a robe over her nightgown, yet refused to leave the room to get herself to safety. A heavy candle stand, the only ‘weapon’ within her reach, was tightly held in her hands as she watched the battle across from her unfold, praying that Rohan would remain unharmed.

The size of the sword of Kells was usually an advantage for Rohan, but he soon had to realise that fighting indoors was more effective with a smaller blade like the guard sword Angus was using. In addition to that came the advantage in speed that the former thief already had and so the leader of the Mystic Knights soon found himself to be on the receiving end of the battle.

He warded off the blows of his opponent, but in doing so also proceeded backwards until he almost tripped over a small table standing in the middle of the chamber. It toppled over and the vase on it smashed to the ground, but Rohan managed to regain his balance, continuing the fight.

His mind was completely blank as he fought with determination, the rage over Angus’ attempt on Deirdre’s life blocking out any objections he had had before against harming his friend. He had to protect the princess, the woman who meant everything to him, no matter the cost.

Only the sound of the swords clashing against each other filled the room for a while, until Rohan managed to block a direct attack from Angus aiming at his head. The two men stood with their blades crossed, none of them willing to give in while they just stared at each other for a moment.

For an split second Rohan’s eyes flickered to the ground behind Angus and a grin spread across his lips. He knew he had won.

Putting all of his strength into the movement, the Mystic Knight of Fire pushed his sword forward and succeeded in breaking Angus’ attack, knocking the shorter man backwards in the process and making him trip over the small wooden table that had fallen down earlier.

With a startled yelp the Temra fighter landed on his back, the sword flying from his hand and landing somewhere out of his reach in the darkness. Angus wanted to get back up again, but before he could move, the tip of the sword of Kells was suddenly at his throat, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Don’t move or you’re dead!” Rohan ordered quietly but in a determined tone, getting the man on the ground to comply.

“You wanted to kill her. You really wanted to kill _Deirdre_. How could you?” the Mystic Knight of Fire asked, any hope he had left for his friend before gone from his voice. His eyes were filled with sadness as he continued.

“I still had faith in you, you know? I thought you would fight it, I actually thought that the real you was still in there, trying to break Maeve’s control, but now I realise that that’s been foolish.” Rohan took a deep breath, struggling with his next words.

“I have to end it, I know that. You’re my responsibility, in some way you’ve always been, so I’m the only one who can do this.” Tears were shining in the blond man’s eyes as he lifted the sword in his hands and stared down at the man he had known almost his entire life. The _friend_ he had known almost his entire life.

However, as the seconds passed on in tense silence, he found that he just couldn’t bring himself to strike the final blow. Letting the sword of Kells sink again, Rohan’s posture slumped visibly, as if all of his former determination had suddenly left him.

“I… I can’t. I can’t do it,” the Mystic Knight of Fire admitted before he looked over at Deirdre as if to seek her forgiveness. The expression on the face of the princess was understanding, but quickly turned into one of horror when there was a sudden movement below Rohan.

“But I can,” Angus uttered breathlessly as he was leaning forward, the knife he had taken from his guard earlier in his hand, the blade embedded in Rohan’s stomach, blood running down its hilt.

 

**To be continued…**


	19. Open Your Eyes (Part 1)

The Queen of Temra was not in a good mood.

She hadn’t gotten any rest since the hasty retreat from Kells, but she would certainly not be able to find any sleep in her enraged state anyway as she was reviewing her losses once more.

A large number of her soldiers had been injured in the battle and even though casualties had been surprisingly few, it would take some time until her forces could pose a threat to those of her enemies again.

Added to that came the fact that not even Tyrune had come out of the battle unharmed. Maeve had sent Torc to check on the condition of the three-headed dragon immediately after their return to Temra, and the leader of her troops had returned in an even worse mood than before, with several scorch marks on his uniform, and had informed her that Tyrune would not be fit to fight anytime soon.

All through the night Maeve had replayed yesterday’s battle in her head over and over again, but in the end it all came down to only one person who had sealed her fate. Deirdre.

The queen had no idea how or why it had happened, but the moment the princess had gained her new mystic weapon and corresponding armour, the outcome of the battle had been decided. The red headed woman had single-handedly defeated Angus, had chased away Tyrune and had completely crushed the fighting spirit of the Temra soldiers in the process.

Even if only to herself, Maeve had to admit that she had underestimated the young woman. Because even before she had received a new weapon, Deirdre had led the army of Kells into the battle bravely and with a lot more cunning that Maeve would have ever thought her capable of.

It was embarrassing to accept that only one person had foiled all her plans, had undone each and every advantage the army of Temra had had on its side, but at least she still had some hope that Angus would succeed where the rest of her forces had failed.

The queen stood up from her throne and grabbed her magic sceptre, more out of habit than the intention to actually use it, and started pacing. She contemplated calling Mider for help, but after having been defeated yet again, despite the powerful magic the dark fairy had granted her, she suspected that he would not be in a very forgiving mood and discarded the idea again immediately.

Instead she called for one of the servants to go and find Torc, knowing that the general would be just as sleepless as she was after the lost battle.

In accord with her suspicion it really only took a few minutes until Torc entered the throne room and bowed shortly to Maeve.

“My Queen, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Has there been any word on Angus yet? The plan was for him to go after the king and Deirdre tonight, so he might be back soon.”

Torc’s expression tensed at the mention of the Mystic Knight. When he finally replied, he wasn’t even trying to leave his consistent dislike for the man aside.

“No, he has not yet returned. But, if I may, I would advise my Queen not to have too much faith in Angus. You have assigned a warrior’s task to a thief; I do not believe he has even the slightest chance of success.”

Maeve scoffed as she regarded her general. She knew that he felt threatened by the younger man, but his constant insults and derisive remarks were slowly getting tiresome for her.

“You mean unlike the fine warriors within my troops who have been so very successful recently?”

His pride clearly offended, Torc stood a little taller as he defended his men.

“My soldiers fought bravely in the battle and did what they could.”

“They fled as soon as the odds were against them; that’s what they did.”

Both Torc and Maeve immediately turned towards the entrance of the throne room at the sound of a familiar voice coming from there. The general’s lips hardened as his eyes fell on the one person he would have preferred never to see again.

Angus was standing in the doorway, still wearing his black Temra leather armour, his mystic weapon strapped to his belt on one side, a plain soldier’s sword on the other. He passed the room in long strides and kneeled down in front of the steps leading up to the elevated part of the floor where Maeve was standing right now.

“My Queen, I return to your side, but to my great shame I must admit that my actions haven’t been much braver than those of our soldiers. To avoid another imprisonment I had to flee from Kells without fulfilling the task you had given me.”

“King Conchobar and the princess?”

“I’m afraid they are both still alive.”

“No!” Maeve screamed in anger, furious that even her most trusted fighter had disappointed her.

“How could you fail? I had given you everything you needed to succeed and don’t tell me _you_ couldn't move through the castle of Kells without getting caught.”

“I knew that you put too much trust in him. The task was far too big and important for a scoundrel like him,” Torc chimed in derisively.

Angus shook his head and kept his eyes on the ground, completely ignoring the general’s taunting, apparently devastated to have disappointed his queen.

“I was interrupted mere seconds before I could end the princess, but I hope it will serve as a small consolation for my failure to know that the warrior Draganta will never trouble you again.”

Maeve froze at these words and stared at Angus in shock.

“Rohan… is dead?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Yes, my Queen. I killed him and watched him die with my own eyes,” the former thief announced triumphantly.

The mood of both the queen and her general changed instantly. A smile returned to Maeve’s lips as she started pacing in front of her throne again, this time barely able to contain her excitement, while Torc was numb with disbelief and shock.

“Draganta gone! That changes everything. Without him there will be no peace for Kells and it doesn’t matter how powerful the Mystic Knights are, with only two of them left, they don’t stand a chance against the forces of Temra. I will finally claim my birthright and you, Angus, are the one who made it possible.”

The dark haired man got up from his kneeling position and bowed deeply to the queen once more, but when he looked back up at her, he wore a very serious expression.

“I’m glad that my actions are to your satisfaction, but I also bring rather troubling news from Kells. While talking to my former _friends_ , I learned that there is someone here in Temra who is working against you. A traitor secretly siding with your sworn enemies.”

Maeve’s mood darkened again as she frowned at the former thief. She could barely believe his words, but knew that her spell kept Angus from ever lying to her.

“Who is it?” she demanded to know, her eyes narrowed and her entire posture ready to strike. She was so fixated on the young man in front of her that she didn’t notice how anxious Torc was getting.

The general had gone completely pale and was slowly moving backwards towards the exit, knowing that he couldn’t say or do anything to stop his rival from exposing his secret without drawing too much attention to himself.

Meanwhile, Angus had walked up the two steps separating him from Maeve and was now standing right in front of her, wanting only the queen to hear what he had to say. His voice was very quiet as he spoke, but sharp as a blade’s edge.

“I don’t think I will have to tell you who I am talking about. Just take a good look at my face and you will know, _my Queen_.”

Maeve raised her eyebrows in confusion for a brief moment, but when she complied with Angus’ instruction, her breath caught in her throat in surprise and shock.

“Your eyes…” She trailed off, too overwhelmed by what was happening to even think straight, and staggered backwards a few feet.

“No, it can’t be!” Maeve cried out and raised her staff in front of her, green light shooting out of the rune stone at Angus.

“You _cannot_ be free from my spell, that’s impossible!” However, neither her words nor her magic managed to slow the dark haired man down as he kept advancing on her.

“Oh, I assure you, it _is_ possible, Maeve. I’ve broken free from your control once and for all, so your magic is useless against me. And now,” he stepped right in front of the queen, his sword drawn and against her throat, “if you would be so kind and hand me that sceptre of yours?”

 

* * *

 

_A few hours earlier:_

 

_“I… I can’t. I can’t do it,” the Mystic Knight of Fire admitted before he looked over at Deirdre as if to seek her forgiveness. The expression on the face of the princess was understanding, but quickly turned into one of horror when there was a sudden movement below Rohan._

_“But I can,” Angus uttered breathlessly as he was leaning forward, the knife he had taken from his guard earlier in his hand, the blade embedded in Rohan’s stomach, blood running down its hilt._

Time stood still for a moment.

Angus grinned triumphantly. He had done it, he had beaten Draganta. He had seized his opportunity and this time nobody had been able to stop him.

He was sure that Rohan was as good as dead; the man he had known almost all of his life was dying.

Angus’ gaze was locked on the knife in his hand and he found that he couldn’t look away even if he had wanted to. The blade was still embedded in Rohan’s stomach and the blood that was running down the hilt now slowly began to run down his hand as well.

His friend’s blood…

Angus’ heart skipped a beat as the image completely sank in and he felt the impact in his entire being.

It was as if a shadow was being lifted off of his mind and soul and in that instant the monstrosity that had been created inside of him began to shatter, slowly but surely.

The smile on the young man’s face faded and confusion flickered briefly across his features, but was quickly replaced by an expression of sheer and utter horror as the realisation of what he had done completely hit him.

The knife fell from his hand and clattered to the floor, the sound of it unnaturally loud in the dead silence still filling the room.

Angus stared at the blood that was covering his hand and then at the wounded man in front of him, too shocked to fully take in what was happening, until Rohan suddenly let out a strangled sound and dropped forward.

The former thief hurried to get up on his knees and managed to catch his friend just before he could hit the ground.

“No!” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but Angus’ desperation filled the word with an urgency that reached everyone in the room.

“No!” Struggling futilely for anything else to say, he kept repeating himself as he was kneeling on the cold stone floor and now lowered Rohan carefully to the ground.

The blond man didn’t seem to be aware of anything that was happening around him anymore. His eyes were glazed and he was clutching the wound in his stomach in pain as his breathing was becoming increasingly ragged.

Rohan’s lips were moving, but it took several seconds until any sound could finally be heard.

“D… Deirdre,” he whispered, but it was enough to pull the young woman out of the stupor she had fallen into the instant Rohan had been hurt.

The princess rushed forward and fell on her knees beside Rohan, but before she addressed the injured man, she directed her attention to the guards at the door that were still standing there in shock.

“What are you waiting for? Somebody get Cathbad! Rohan needs his help!” Then she looked down at the nearly unconscious man on the ground and tried to fight off the tears threatening to overwhelm her as she grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it tightly in reassurance. She had to pull herself together for his sake.

“I’m here, Rohan, I’m here. You’re going to be alright, I promise, just… just stay with me, please!”

Rohan calmed down visibly as the princess spoke, her presence having a soothing effect on him, despite the pain he was still in. He tried to look at her, but had trouble to really focus on anything, the dim light not being of any help, either.

“You’re safe? Did Angus… hurt you?”

A sob escaped Deirdre’s throat at these words as she thought how typical it was for Rohan to worry about her, when he was the one slowly bleeding out on the floor.

She nodded and held Rohan’s hand against her chest so he could feel the warmth of her body and know that she was unharmed – thanks to him.

“I’m fine, I’m not injured and I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? You saved my life, Rohan, but you can’t leave me now. I won’t allow it…, I _won’t_ …” She trailed off, her desperation finally overwhelming her.

A movement opposite from her caught Deirdre’s attention, though, and she noticed how Angus, whom she had completely erased from her thoughts since Rohan’s injury, reached for a thin blanket that was hanging over a nearby chair. Then he approached Rohan with it, to use it to try and slow down the flow of blood from the blond man’s wound. The princess took a sharp breath and her eyes became hard as she grabbed the fabric from him and glared at the former thief. Of course she had noticed the sudden change in his behaviour, and deep down she already knew what it meant, but in this moment only the fact that Angus had been the one who had attacked Rohan really mattered to her and so she reacted accordingly.

“Don’t even dare to touch him! You’re the one who did this, so you stay away from him, is that clear? Just… get out of my sight!”

Angus swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything in return. He merely got to his feet and backed away against the wall at the far side of the room where he slid down to the ground so he could still see Rohan and Deirdre, but was outside of the princess’ field of vision.

There was a lump in his throat so huge that he doubted he would ever be able to speak again, but right now his thoughts were only on Rohan and the unforgivable crime he had committed against his best friend. He had seen the wound and all the blood the blond man had already lost, and knew that the chances for Rohan to survive were more than slim, even under Cathbad’s treatment.

Valuable seconds rushed by and turned into minutes while they desperately waited for help, the sound of Rohan’s pained breathing filling the room, only occasionally interrupted by Deirdre’s sobs and her repeated assurances that the blond man would be fine and that his injury wasn’t actually that bad. All the while she was pressing down on the wound to slow down the bleeding, but even from his position Angus could see the growing pool of blood on the floor and he knew that his friend had long since lost consciousness.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cathbad hurried into the chamber, a grave expression on his face as he rushed to Rohan’s side. He examined the wound and commended Deirdre’s efforts to contain the bleeding, then looked around for a second, taking in his environment for the first time.

Before the druid could say anything else, though, he was interrupted by Ivar, who now stormed into the room as well and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Rohan on the floor. Shocked, he then proceeded to ask exactly the question Cathbad had had on his mind seconds ago.

“What happened?”

Deirdre took a deep breath before answering, but was cut short by a choked-up voice beating her to it.

“It… it was me. …I did that.”

Everyone turned around and Cathbad and Ivar now noticed for the first time Angus, who was still sitting against the far wall, almost completely concealed by the shadows.

Unshed tears were glistening in his eyes as he spoke and his voice sounded hollow, almost unrecognisable.

“You? But how did you get here? How did you escape from the dungeon?” Ivar asked, alarmed, but was quickly interrupted by Cathbad, who had gotten back to his feet and now laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder, effectively silencing him.

“Prince Ivar, I have the feeling that Angus is not going to go anywhere, so you might question him later. Right now, Rohan has to be our first priority. I cannot do anything for him here, so please take a few of the guards that are still waiting outside and move him to the empty guestroom next to my chamber. I will follow you immediately and get what I need to properly treat Rohan’s injury.”

His eyes still fixated on Angus, Ivar nodded in silence. He hesitated for another brief second, but then he finally composed himself again, called out to the soldiers to help him and then kneeled down next to Rohan and Deirdre.

“You heard Cathbad; we’re going to have to carry him. Please give me that.” He reached out to take over the already blood soaked cloth the princess was still pressing against Rohan’s stomach, but in the end he had to almost force it out of her hand.

Reluctantly Deirdre finally pulled away, but followed Ivar and the soldiers as closely as possible, without paying any more attention to the remaining two men as they made their way out of her room and into the more brightly lit corridor.

Cathbad stayed behind, him and Angus now the only people left in the royal chamber, his old eyes resting on the former thief, a knowing spark shining in them. He sighed deeply before speaking, aware that there was no time to be wasted to attend to Rohan’s injury, but also worried about Angus’ state, both physically and mentally.

“Although I don’t know yet what exactly happened, I take it you fought against Rohan. Have you been hurt, Angus?”

The younger man only shook his head in reply, unable or unwilling to speak.

“Good.” Cathbad nodded slightly in relief, earning himself a startled look from Angus, although it was concealed by the darkness.

“Then, seeing as no injury has rendered you unable to walk, please come forward. I need to take a look at you here in the light.”

But Angus didn’t move. He couldn’t understand why the old man was treating him this kindly after everything he had done, while Rohan’s life was still at stake nevertheless.

“Please, son,” Cathbad added, more insistent this time, and Angus swallowed hard as realisation dawned on him.

The druid knew.

Still trembling slightly from shock, he pushed himself off the ground and stepped further into the middle of the room and into the light shining in through the open door.

Angus remembered how Rohan had been able to tell whether Garrett was under Maeve’s control or not by looking into his eyes, so he forced himself to look straight at the old druid in front of him and not to avoid his scrutinising gaze.

“Ah, yes, just as I had thought. It is good to have you back, Angus.” Cathbad laid a hand on the former thief’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, but then turned to leave the room in a hurry.

“I am sorry that I will have to leave you like this, but I cannot let Rohan wait any longer.” The druid looked back once more, his expression tense, but kind.

“The king will surely want to talk to you, so I suggest you wait in the throne room.”

Angus opened his mouth to protest, but Cathbad stopped him before he could say a single word.

“I will keep you informed on Rohan’s condition, but I think it would be wise for you to keep some distance to your fellow knights for the moment.”

The dark haired man knew of course that the druid was right, but it was still hard for him to have to stay behind. Before Cathbad left for good, he shortly addressed the two soldiers, who were still standing in the corridor outside of Deirdre’s chamber after the rest of their group had left with Ivar.

“Guards, if you would be so kind and escort Angus to the throne room and stay with him until I or the king arrive? He is back on our side and does not pose a threat to anyone in Kells anymore, but to prevent any misunderstandings, it might be best for him not to go anywhere on his own for now.”

When Angus stepped out of the room, the soldiers grabbed their weapons more tightly and he could tell right away what exactly they were thinking of Cathbad’s assurance that he wasn’t their enemy anymore. In the last twenty-four hours he had killed one of their comrades and injured several others, so it wasn’t surprising that none of the soldiers would see him as an ally again any time soon.

 

**To be continued…**


	20. Open Your Eyes (Part 2)

Getting Rohan settled into the guestroom was done as quickly as possible, Ivar and the three soldiers helping him making their way through the castle’s corridors as fast as they could. They carefully laid the injured knight on the soft bed and then the soldiers left immediately, knowing that they would only be in the way.

Princess Deirdre, however, didn’t even notice the commotion around her, as she sat next to Rohan and held his hand tightly while Ivar continued her former task of trying to stop the blood flow.

The two royals sat and waited in silence, both too worried about their friend to say anything. It didn’t take long until Cathbad finally arrived, followed by two maids of the castle, carrying a bowl of water and various supplies the druid undoubtedly needed to tend to Rohan’s wound.

Reluctantly, Deirdre abandoned her spot on the bed to give Cathbad the space he needed to work, but she held on to her unconscious friend’s hand without even noticing.

When the druid quickly proceeded to push up Rohan’s shirt to reveal the injury, the princess’ breath hitched slightly as see saw where the knife had pierced his flesh. The wound itself wasn’t very large, but undoubtedly deep enough to cause life threatening damage.

Cathbad set to work with the confidence of an experienced healer, but Deirdre couldn’t help but notice the worried look on his face. She had been afraid that Rohan’s condition was bad, but seeing the expression on the druids face now confirmed her worst fears.

Her grip on the blond man’s hand became even stronger as she watched Cathbad work in silence, the rest of the room completely quiet with the exception of Ivar, who had started pacing in front of the bed.

This continued for a couple of minutes, until Cathbad finally became irritated enough to snap at the Mystic Knight of Water.

“Prince Ivar, as you may be aware, my current task requires the utmost concentration, so I have to ask you to either cease your pacing, or – maybe even better – take your unrest outside. I guess it couldn’t hurt if you talked to Angus instead of running a hole into the ground here.”

The foreign prince wanted to protest at first, but when he noticed the angry glare Deirdre was throwing him as well, he realised that the druid might have a point about him not being in the right shape to stay at Rohan’s side. However, he wasn’t sure if talking to the man who had caused all this would be a good way of relieving his anxiety.

“Has he been taken back to the dungeon?” Ivar asked nevertheless, trying to occupy his mind with anything else other than the critical condition of his friend.

“No, there wasn’t any need for that. He is currently waiting in the throne room,” the druid replied in a calm tone, completely shocking the younger man.

“How can you even say that, Cathbad? Angus is the one who did this,” he gestured towards Rohan, “so how could there not have been any need to arrest him?” the prince asked incredulously, earning him a stern look from the druid who abandoned his work for a moment.

“I did not have him arrested, because, even though you clearly failed to notice, Angus has managed to free himself from Maeve’s spell. Could you not tell by his behaviour?” Cathbad wondered, actually slightly surprised that the other man had not seen the obvious signs.

Ivar was completely dumbfounded by the question and stared at the druid in shock. Was Angus really himself again without him realising it? But how?

Before he could voice any of his questions out loud, Deirdre’s faint words interrupted him.

“I could.”

Both Cathbad and Ivar looked at the princess in surprise, but the young woman kept her eyes on Rohan the entire time.

“I think it happened right after he hurt Rohan. Apparently there _was_ still something that he could not forgive himself for doing.”

After that, Deirdre fell silent again, but Ivar was already too focused on leaving to notice the coldness in her voice.

“Angus is in the throne room, you said?” he asked shortly to make sure that he was heading the right way and as soon as Cathbad nodded he left the room in a hurry, wanting to see for himself if it was true. If Angus was really back.

For a second, the druid shook his head at the haste of the foreign royal, but then he went back to tending to Rohan’s wound, hoping that Ivar would find a way to keep Angus from putting too much blame on himself.

 

* * *

 

Ivar rushed into the throne room, but came to a sudden halt as he spotted Angus pacing in front of the fire place.

The dark haired man hadn’t noticed him yet, which allowed the prince to take in his desolate appearance for a moment. He could make out the anguished expression on Angus’ face all too clearly, even in the dim light that emitted from the almost burnt down fire. There was also still blood on his hands, even though he must have been trying to get it off for a while now.

“Angus,” Ivar called out in a soft voice, not really knowing how to handle the situation. The former thief lifted his head to look in his direction, but remained silent, still at a complete loss for words.

“Is it true? You’re… _you_ again?”

Angus swallowed hard and looked to the ground, not wanting to see the other man’s reaction. After a few seconds he finally answered, his voice broken.

“Yes. But obviously it was too late.”

Ivar shook his head decisively as he kept staring at Angus, a small smile forming on his lips despite the direness of the situation.

“No! It is never too late to return home, my friend.” And with that he went forward and pulled the slightly shorter man, who was still wearing his Temra leather armour, into a fierce hug, completely startling him.

As they pulled apart, the Mystic Knight of Earth needed a moment to compose himself again. He had not expected anyone to give him such a warm welcome or show him this level of forgiveness especially after what he had done not an hour ago.

“How… how is Rohan?” he finally managed to ask, desperately needing to hear an answer, but dreading it at the same time. Ivar’s expression darkened instantly, practically telling Angus everything he needed to know.

“Not good, I’m afraid. Cathbad is doing everything in his power, and I am no healer, of course, but I have seen similar injuries in the past and I’m afraid that they have been mostly fatal.”

Angus closed his eyes in pain, as Ivar had essentially confirmed what he himself had been fearing. Rohan was dying and it was his fault.

“There’s got to be something, anything we can do. What about Fin Varra? If Cathbad isn’t powerful enough to heal Rohan, maybe fairy magic can?” he asked hopefully, not wanting to accept defeat just yet.

“Maybe. When I came down here, the king was on his way to see Rohan and the others. Cathbad will surely have filled him in on what happened by now and I am certain that he will approve of us going to Tir Na Nog to ask King Fin Varra for help.”

“You mean he will approve of _you_ going there, Angus corrected him, but Ivar shook his head in reply.

“No, I mean _us_. Except from maybe Deirdre, there is no one in this castle who wants to save Rohan more desperately than you, and she will not want to leave his side. With Temra’s troops so far into Kells’ border it is not safe for one to travel alone, so we’re going together, no matter what.”

Angus looked at the blue clad prince for a long moment, genuine gratitude softening the deep lines of worry on his face. And it was not just for the promise of travelling to Tir Na Nog together.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly, and after a moment of hesitation added, “for everything.”

Ivar nodded in response and laid a hand on Angus’ shoulder before he answered.

“Believe me, we will not give up on Rohan, just like he didn’t give up on you. He is a fighter and I know for sure, if he were aware that you broke free from Maeve’s control, he would be very glad and relieved, no matter the circumstances. However, I’m afraid for now we can’t do anything but wait, until we have some more definite information about Rohan’s condition.”

Angus agreed reluctantly and the two knights waited for a while in silence, turning towards the entrance at every faint sound they heard, until King Conchobar finally entered the throne room, several guards following him.

Conchobar crossed the room and sat down on his throne wearily, clearly still tired after having been ripped out of his sleep in the middle of the night. He regarded the two men before him for a moment, until Angus stepped away from Ivar and in front of the king, his head lowered, bracing himself for the judgment that surely awaited him.

“My King,” he began in a calm manner, his voice betraying very little of his inner turmoil, “I have no words to apologise for everything I did to this kingdom and its people and even to my own friends. I am at your mercy and I will return to the dungeon without resistance, if you command it.” At this point he hesitated a second and threw a brief glance at Ivar. “But I implore you, your Highness, to give me the chance to try and right at least one of the wrongs I have committed. Please allow me to go to Tir Na Nog with Ivar to ask King Fin Varra for a cure for Rohan.”

Conchobar stayed silent for another long moment as he scrutinised Angus even more closely than before, his eyes lighting up almost unnoticeably. When he spoke, even his voice conveyed the uplift of his mood.

“When Cathbad told me only minutes ago that Maeve’s spell had been broken and he hadn’t ordered you to be imprisoned again right away, I was certain that my old friend had somehow been deceived by you.”

For a few seconds, the words hung in the air like the sword of Damocles ready to fall, but when the king finally continued, a genuine smile lit up his features, soothing the slight worry of both Mystic Knights present, that he might follow Angus’ first suggestion and actually have him arrested again.

“However, in this case I truly don’t mind being the one who is proven wrong. It is a great relief seeing you back on our side, Angus, but I must admit that the circumstances of your liberation are still unclear to me. As I have yet to hear a final statement from Cathbad concerning Rohan’s condition, we will have to pass some time anyway before I allow anyone to leave the castle and go to Tir Na Nog. Tell me what happened, from your point of view.”

Angus had to take a deep breath at the prospect of having to relive it all, although he had already known that this would happen sooner or later. Aware that there was nothing he could do to avoid this questioning, he told the king and Ivar what had transpired over the course of the night, starting with his escape using Maeve’s ring, to his attempt on Deirdre’s life – during which he noticed King Conchobar tensing up – and ultimately to his fight with Rohan and his final attack.

“At first I felt… elated about what I had accomplished, but then... I suddenly realised what I had done. It was as if I was thinking clearly again, for the first time in weeks and I… I don’t really know how to describe it. I think I felt something inside of me break; Maeve’s spell, I guess.

From then on things are actually a little hazy. I know that I helped Rohan to the ground and that at some point Deirdre told me to get away from him, but I have no idea how long any of that took. Or at what time Cathbad arrived.”

Angus had finished his narration and waited for the king to reply something, but the throne room was silent for a while as Conchobar took in what he had just heard. In the end it was Ivar who asked the first question.

“So, how much of your time in Temra do you actually remember? I think Garrett couldn’t recall a thing after he had been freed from Maeve’s spell.”

“Everything,” Angus replied, his voice almost inaudible. “I wish I wouldn’t, but I remember every moment and every little thing I did while I was under Maeve’s control. If you can even call it that.”

“You wouldn’t call it ‘control’?” Ivar asked, clearly surprised.

“Well, I obeyed her orders, of course, but it wasn’t as if Maeve controlled all of my actions. She just… altered my morality, I guess. The way I looked at the world. That way I became completely loyal to her and everyone here in Kells was suddenly my enemy, even my best friends.”

His voice trailed off and silence filled the throne room once again for a moment, until a gentle voice could be heard from the top of the stairs leading to the druid’s chamber.

“But Rohan was right and you were strong enough to free yourself from the spell, even though Maeve had put all her energy into casting it.”

Everyone in the room looked up at Cathbad, who had just entered, his expression as calm as always and not giving away what news he was bringing. The druid hadn’t even made his way down the wooden stairs, before he found himself bombarded with questions.

“How is Rohan? Have you been able to help him?”

“Is he going to make it?”

“Well,” Cathbad started, “the good news is that Rohan is stable for now. I was able to stop the blood loss and he is still with us, although deeply unconscious. However, the very bad news is that I do not possess the ability to save his life for much longer.

I have bought him and us a few more hours, but ultimately the injury and the blood loss will catch up with him and we will lose Rohan. Our last chance is to go to King Fin Varra for help; perhaps the Little People posses healing powers that exceed my own.”

“Very well,” King Conchobar announced, “Ivar, Angus, you have my permission to leave immediately. Take our fastest horses and return with a cure as swiftly as you can.”

The two knights thanked the king and left the throne room in a hurry, but on their way out, Angus hesitated for a moment and turned to Ivar.

“There is something I have to do first, but it will only take a minute. Could you prepare my horse and I’ll meet you at the stables?”

Seeing how important the issue seemed to be to the former thief, the blue clad prince nodded in reply without much hesitation.

“Of course. I’ll make sure that we can leave as soon as you’re outside.”

“Thank you.” With that, Angus headed down the corridor in the opposite direction from Ivar, leaving him wondering what could possibly be so important right now that he would further delay their departure.

 

* * *

 

Several large candle stands had been carried into the guest chamber to give Cathbad enough light to work and they were still illuminating the room as Angus entered, making as little noise as possible. Rohan was lying under a thick blanket to keep him warm, but the severe blood loss had made his skin become incredibly pale. Angus swallowed hard as he saw the fragile state of his friend and knew immediately that Cathbad had told the truth.

Rohan’s life was hanging by a thin thread, making it hard to tell whether he would even live to witness the next sunrise.

Alerted by the entering footsteps, the person sitting next to the bed now lifted her head and turned around to face the intruder. Deirdre had clearly been crying, but her sadness was replaced by anger as she saw who was now standing in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a cold voice, already contemplating to call the guards and force Angus to leave the room. “I told you to stay away from Rohan. You’ve caused more than enough harm already.”

“Ivar and I are leaving for Tir Na Nog to ask Fin Varra for help. I just had to see him, Deirdre, in case… in case we’re…” He trailed off without finishing his sentence, but knew that the princess understood what he was trying to say.

The moment stretched out in tense silence, while Deirdre scrutinised the dark haired man in front of her. He kept his eyes on the ground, unable to look at her, but even though the princess’ mind was clouded with anger and sadness, she could sense Angus’ genuine regret and sorrow.

After several seconds Deirdre finally stepped aside and allowed Angus to approach the bed.

“Make it quick,” she ordered briskly.

Nodding, the former thief stepped forward and stared down at his best friend, not knowing what to say, now that he had the chance to talk to him for what might even be the very last time. ‘I’m sorry’ just didn’t seem to do any justice to the gravity of the situation.

Without saying a word, Angus sank down to his knees, ignoring the chair Deirdre had been sitting in, took Rohan’s frighteningly cold hand in his and just held it for a long moment in complete silence. When he finally spoke, his words were nearly inaudible, being meant only for Rohan.

“We’re friends for life. I just want you to know I didn’t forget that. And yours isn’t over yet, I’ll make sure of that, I promise.” With that the dark haired man got back to his feet and headed for the door without looking back or saying another word.

He was almost out of the room, when Deirdre’s voice held him back once more. Her eyes remained focused on Rohan while she spoke, but her words were directed at the former thief, her cold and hollow tone leaving no doubt in him as to her sincerity.

“If Rohan dies… you do not need to come back to Kells. There will be no place for you here anymore.”

Angus looked at Deirdre’s back for a short moment, hurt by her words, but not blaming the princess for them even in the slightest. He knew what he had done all too well and would not deny his responsibility.

“Trust me, if he dies, you will not see me again, Princess.” He inclined his head to her briefly and then headed out of the door, leaving behind a completely desolate young woman.

Once Angus was gone, Deirdre returned to Rohan’s side and took a hold of the unconscious man’s hand, praying for him to survive.

 

* * *

 

Most of the ride to Tir Na Nog had been spent in silence, but after Angus and Ivar had dismounted their horses, the prince noticed his friend’s hesitation as they approached the stone circle marking the entrance to the underground kingdom.

“What is keeping you, my friend?” he asked, clearly startling the former thief.

“What? Oh, was it that obvious? I’ve just been wondering exactly how big the chances are that Fin Varra will turn me into a spriggan on sight. After what happened with Deirdre’s weapon, he probably won’t be very happy to see me.”

Ivar put a hand on Angus’ shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry about that. I am here to vouch for you if necessary and I am sure that King Fin Varra will recognise the gravity of our situation and act accordingly. Rohan’s life is our only priority now, everything else we will deal with later.”

Angus nodded in gratitude and the two Mystic Knights quickly proceeded to put their hands over the sparkling jewel in the middle of the stone altar.

In the blink of an eye they were standing in the throne room of Tir Na Nog, which was for once not filled with dance and laughter. Only the king and two of his guards were present, almost to the surprise of the humans, given the time of night.

“Ah, Angus, Ivar. I have been expecting you,” the fairy king greeted them happily as he stood up from his throne. “And I must say that I am delighted to see your return here, Angus,” he announced with a beaming smile, to the bewilderment of the former thief.

“How did you know I’m me again? And that we were coming here?” he asked, voicing both his own and Ivar’s questions.

“Oh, believe me, I have eyes and ears all over the forest and they have informed me that you two were heading here with great urgency. As to how I knew that Maeve’s spell has been broken, well – aside from the fact that you and Ivar are travelling together – do you really believe you could have entered here, armed as you are, if you were still loyal to Temra? We Little People might be a peaceful folk, but believe me, we take our security very seriously.”

Fin Varra scrutinised the humans in front of him for a moment, his expression serious again.

“But I take it you didn’t come here at this time of night simply to pay me a visit. What happened?”

Angus wanted to answer, but was struggling with the words to recount the events of the night, so Ivar took over for him. He described their situation as quickly as possible, the king’s face darkening with every sentence.

“And that is why we came here. Cathbad did everything he could, but Rohan’s injury is too severe for his powers. Your magic is the only hope we have left,” he finished imploringly, waiting for the fairy king to reply.

“I understand why you came to me for help, but I’m afraid that I will have to disappoint you. Not even fairy magic is strong enough to cure the injury you just described to me, Prince Ivar.”

“What?” the foreign royal asked in shock, not wanting to accept this answer.

“No, you’re lying!” Angus suddenly announced in a harsh tone, earning himself a disbelieving stare from Ivar.

“King Fin Varra wouldn’t lie about this, Angus, and you know it. Please calm down.”

“Oh, but he is,” the former thief protested. “Any moment now he’s going to come up with some stupid riddle that we’ll have to solve to save Rohan. But I’m not going to play that game this time. Just help us, already!” he all but shouted, but the king remained completely calm, understanding the devastation behind the young man’s outburst.

“I am very sorry Angus, but believe me, I do not possess enough magic to heal Rohan, nor do I know of any other way to save his life. There is no secret to uncover or riddle to solve here.”

The dark haired man stared down at Fin Varra, his anger leaving him as the truth started to settle in. This entire trip had been nothing but a failure, a waste of what little time Rohan had left.

Completely beaten, Angus fell to his knees, unknowingly mimicking Deirdre’s behaviour from a few days ago. He continued to plead with the king, even though he knew it was futile.

“But he is _Draganta_. How could he possibly die without his destiny being fulfilled? Maeve might be pushed back for now, but if Rohan dies Kells will fall within weeks, if not days. That simply cannot happen!” He swallowed hard, but continued with determination.

“ _I_ did this to him; it was my hand that dealt the blow, no matter who was influencing it. If there is anything I can do to save Rohan, I will do it. I will give my life if that’s what it takes.”

Fin Varra’s eyes were filled with sadness as he could feel the sincerity in Angus’ words, but before he could answer, one of his guards suddenly chimed in.

“What about the ‘ _link_ ’?” the red-clad soldier askeinningsion, but with unmasked in. could fell the sincerity in Angus' controlling it. ft.

."re with great urgency. nd laughted cautiously. “You used it once to help me save one of my brothers, after he had been attacked by a dark wood elf, do you not remember, my King?”

“What are you talking about? What is he talking about?” Angus asked in confusion, but with beginning excitement. He was desperate enough to try anything, no matter how small the chances.

Fin Varra did not seem too happy about the guard’s suggestion, but nevertheless answered the question.

“Well, the ‘link’ is an ancient ritual of the Little People. It is used to connect the life forces of two individuals for a short time, when one of them is sick or injured to help them recover.”

Angus’ eyes lit up, some semblance of hope finally returning to him.

“But that’s perfect! I’m going to do it; Rohan and I may not be brothers through blood, but in spirit, that’s got to be good enough, right?”

“It should be, yes, but as I said, it is a ritual of the Little People. It has never been done with humans. I’m not sure if it would even work and it would certainly be very dangerous, with unforeseeable consequences.” Fin Varra tried to caution the former thief, but to no avail.

“I don’t care about the consequences,” Angus replied matter-of-factly. “I have almost murdered my best friend in cold blood, and I will do whatever it takes to save his life. You have to help me do this ritual; it’s the only hope Rohan has left.”

Fin Varra looked at Angus, deep in thought. However, after what felt like an eternity, the king finally nodded in agreement, accepting that there was no use in trying to stop the young man anyway.

“Alright, but there is still a problem we will have to solve first. Humans do not possess magic like we Little People do, therefore it is not as simple to create a connection. We will need something to form some sort of bridge, a magical artefact strong enough to channel this kind of energy and…” He stopped mid-sentence, his expression darkening visibly.

“What? You know something that would work, right?” Angus asked with rising hope, but still slightly worried by the king’s behaviour. He didn’t hesitate to continue, though. “Just tell us where we can find this artefact. Ivar and I will leave to get it right away, no matter what dangers may lie in our way.”

The fairy king sounded increasingly sceptical about their chances of success when he finally followed the former thief’s demand and shared his knowledge.

“Well, the only magical item on this island that I know of matching the requirements is the rune stone Mider gave to Maeve.”

“You mean that green glowing stone that’s attached to her staff?” Ivar asked, rather surprised. He hadn’t expected the solution to their problem to literally lie in the hands of their worst enemy.

“Yes, precisely. You see, the stone is not a power source by itself, but it allows Maeve to tap into the energy of Mider’s dark realm, making it the perfect conductor for our purpose. But getting it away from the queen will not be an easy task; after all, it is not only her most valuable but also her most dangerous possession.”

“Are you serious?” Angus asked, almost laughing out loud in delight, to the immense confusion of both the king and Ivar. “I mean, do you realise what I am still wearing?” he asked, pointing to the large Temra emblem on his leather armour.

“You think you can get to the stone without Maeve noticing anything?” Fin Varra asked, not really convinced by what Angus was apparently planning.

“Absolutely. I’ll just walk right into the throne room and take Maeve’s magic staff out of her hand, before she even knows that anything’s wrong. I’m just sad that I’ll be the only one to see the expression on her face when she realises her spell over me has been broken,” he added with a faint hint of his usual exuberance.

“But won’t the queen be alerted if you just turn up after being imprisoned earlier?” Ivar asked sceptically, not wanting his reformed friend to put himself in unnecessary danger by heading into the lion’s den alone.

“No. The plan was for me to… to kill Deirdre and King Conchobar and return to Temra immediately, so Maeve will be expecting me back. Although, I’ll better tell her something that’s as close to the truth as possible, because I’m sure her spies would have informed her already if the king was dead.”

Ivar nodded, reluctantly agreeing with Angus’ plan, because even though he knew it was dangerous, he also knew that this was the best chance they had to save Rohan’s life.

“Well, seeing as there is nothing that can change your mind, you better leave immediately, Angus. Ivar and I will deal with the rest of the preparations for the ritual while you procure the rune stone,” the fairy king concluded.

“Good luck, my friend. May your journey be swift and successful.” Ivar took a hold of the other man’s arm in a parting gesture and Angus nodded in thanks. Before he could leave, though, Fin Varra’s voice held him back once more.

“One more thing, Angus. This ritual is at its strongest when performed at dawn. So make sure to be back here in Tir Na Nog before the sun comes up.”

The former thief nodded and finally left, his thoughts already on what exactly he would tell the queen.

 

* * *

 

_Back in the throne room of Temra:_

 

 _“You_ cannot _be free from my spell, that’s impossible!” However, neither Maeve’s words nor her magic managed to slow the dark haired man down as he kept advancing on her._

_“Oh, I assure you, it is possible, Maeve. I’ve broken free from your control once and for all, so your magic is useless against me. And now,” he stepped right in front of the queen, his sword drawn and against her throat, “if you would be so kind and hand me that sceptre of yours?”_

 

Maeve was so taken aback by this demand that she remained quiet for a moment. Behind him, however, Angus could hear movement as Torc had recovered from his own surprise and was getting ready to attack him. Without turning around, the dark haired man addressed the general, his eyes never leaving Maeve’s.

“One more step and your beloved queen dies, Torc. Don’t test me!”

Growling angrily, the older man stayed where he was, though with his sword still drawn and ready to attack at any moment. Maeve on the other hand was not yet ready to follow Angus’ orders and stared at him with venom.

“Do you really expect me to believe that you will just leave peacefully once I have given you what you want? That you will not seize this perfect opportunity for revenge?”

Angus was silent for a few seconds, thinking once more about his options at hand, but his voice was determined when he finally answered.

“You’re right, I should simply kill you for everything you’ve done and what you made me do, but I have seen more than enough blood and death these last few days. So don’t force my hand when I’m willing to spare your life.”

Maeve contemplated his words for a long moment, but ultimately obeyed, albeit grudgingly, and handed her staff to Angus.

He took it with immense relief and proceeded to rip off the rune stone from the tip of the sceptre and stuffed it into one of his pockets.

The sorceress in front of him flinched visibly at the destruction of her most powerful weapon, but knew well enough that she couldn’t do anything to stop it at the moment. However, before the former thief could turn to leave, the queen’s curiosity got the better of her and she stopped him once more.

“I’ll admit that you’ve won for now, but tell me, how can it be that you’re free of my spell? There wasn’t supposed to be any magic in this world strong enough to break it,” she pointed out, her voice filled with anger.

“It wasn’t magic that freed me from your control, Maeve, it was friendship, love. But of course _you_ wouldn’t know anything about these things,” Angus answered truthfully, almost feeling pity for the Queen of Temra, because he knew now without a doubt, that she would never be able to understand any of these concepts.

Without another word he turned away from Maeve, her staff still in his hand, and wanted to head out of the throne room. Torc was blocking his way, however, his sword still drawn, and looking anything but heartbroken about the recent events.

“How long I have waited for this. Now you will finally taste the steel of my blade, you arrogant little bastard!” The general was furious, but also relishing the opportunity to finally attack the Mystic Knight of Earth after he had been forced to tolerate him for so long.

Angus’ initial urge was to accept the challenge, but he quickly remembered that he had no time to waste, so duelling Torc to teach him a lesson would have to wait for another day.

His sword in his right hand, Maeve’s sceptre in the left, Angus charged at the Temra general without hesitation, startling the older man slightly and gaining him the element of surprise. With this advantage the former thief had no trouble to avert the first attack of his opponent and force his sword to the side.

Seizing his chance, Angus used the created space and swung the staff in his left hand at his enemy’s head with all the force he could muster.

Upon impact, the figure of a ram skull at the top of the sceptre exploded in a shower of green sparks and the general howled in pain as he was almost thrown to the ground by the force of it. The entire side of his face was covered in blood, but Angus had no inclination to stay and survey the damage he had caused.

Instead he intended to make his way to the exit, but stopped as something else in the room caught his eye.

The former thief moved towards the small table opposite Maeve’s throne, grinning as he disposed of the remains of the queen’s magic staff by throwing it to the ground carelessly. With his now free hand he picked up the silver chalice that was simply standing on the wooden surface in front of him, unprotected.

“You don’t mind if I take this, too, right?” Angus asked in a playful tone, but didn’t wait for an answer as he already hurried towards the doorway leading outside.

Hearing Torc’s cries of agony and Maeve’s shouts for her guards behind him, the young man rushed down the all too familiar corridors, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be too late to save Rohan.

 

**To be continued…**


	21. How to Save a Life

Twigs slashed against his face as Angus kept pushing the horse to go faster on his way back to Tir Na Nog. The stars above him had already vanished for the most part and the black of night had made way for a dark blue that was becoming brighter with every passing moment.

The Mystic Knight knew that they would still be able to hold the ritual even if he arrived after the sun had come up, but Fin Varra had pointed out that it would be most powerful at dawn and he didn’t want to take any chances. Rohan’s condition had already been bad when he had left Kells and there was no way of knowing how he was doing by now.

Angus closed his eyes for a second as a thought he had been trying to push away for the past hours forced its back way into his mind. What if Rohan was already dead? If he was too late?

No! Angus shook his head, dismissing the possibility. Rohan couldn’t be dead, not after everything that had happened, not when he was so close to saving him.

He pushed the horse to go even faster, although his chest was hurting with every movement. The blow he had received from Deirdre’s new weapon not even a day ago had without a doubt bruised a few of his rips, but he pushed the pain aside, not allowing it to slow him down. He would make it back to Tir Na Nog in time. He had to…

 

* * *

 

Upon Ivar’s return to Kells the castle lay silent as could be expected at this early hour, but the gate was opened as soon as he approached, allowing him to ride into the courtyard unhindered. Two soldiers were waiting for him and one of them took the reins of his horse from him the instant the prince had dismounted. The other one indicated for Ivar to follow him.

“The King ordered me to wait for your arrival and to escort you into the throne room without delay,” he announced dutifully. Ivar simply nodded and followed the man inside, knowing that time was of the essence.

The interior of the castle was completely quiet, even though Ivar noticed the increase in soldiers on guard duty or on patrol right away. Everyone turned their heads as the prince walked past, but the atmosphere was so depressing that he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of heading straight into a tomb.

As they finally entered the throne room, the foreign prince found it much more illuminated than before his departure. There was fresh wood in the fireplace and the flames had been reignited, giving off comforting light and warmth, both highly appreciated in this difficult hour.

King Conchobar was the only one present at the moment and he stood from his throne the instant he noticed the two arrivals.

“Guard, notify Cathbad that Prince Ivar has returned.”

The soldier gave a curt bowed to his regent and then left the room in a hurry to bring the news to the druid.

As soon as he had left, Conchobar scrutinised Ivar in surprise before he spoke, his voice heavy with worry and fatigue.

“Has King Fin Varra been able to provide a cure for Rohan? I fear his condition has only been getting worse. And where is Angus? Why did he not return with you?”

“Sadly, I did not bring a cure with me, but I’ve come back to take Rohan to Tir Na Nog. The Little People know of a way to heal him with the help of an old ritual Fin Varra is going to perform. Angus went to… to procure an artefact needed for that,” Ivar explained hesitantly.

He knew it had been a high risk to allow Angus to go to Temra on his own, but he trusted his friend and it wasn’t as if there had been much of an alternative anyway.

Conchobar furrowed his brow at this, instinctively knowing that there was something the prince wasn’t telling him, but he chose to go for the most pressing topic first.

“That’s undoubtedly good news, but I’m afraid Rohan is in no condition to travel. Even the ride on a carriage would surely be lethal to him at this point.”

Ivar nodded, having expected as much.

“That’s why Fin Varra gave me this,” he announced, pulling a scroll of parchment out of one of his pockets. “This scroll has been enchanted with a spell that will teleport Rohan to Tir Na Nog within seconds.”

“Let me have a look at this, Prince Ivar.” The unmistakeable voice of Cathbad came from the top of the wooden staircase leading to his chamber, and the two royals in the throne room looked up to see the wise old druid enter.  His expression was grim, weighted down by the emotional strain of the past hours.

Ivar handed the parchment over and Cathbad nodded a few times to himself as he read the words inscribed on it.

“Yes, yes, this will work. I recognise Fin Varra’s magic in the scroll; it will be strong enough to transport Rohan, myself and everyone else who wishes to accompany us to Tir Na Nog in an instant. But Ivar, tell me more about this ritual you mentioned. How exactly is it supposed to heal Rohan?”

Reluctantly, Ivar explained what little he knew about the link that was going to be formed between Rohan and Angus, knowing that the prospect of possibly dangerous consequences would not serve to ease the minds of either Cathbad or the king.

When he had finished his short explanation, Conchobar looked at him warily, still sensing that there was more to it than the prince was willing to share.

“And where exactly did Angus go to find this magical artefact needed for the ritual?”

Certain that neither of the two older men would like the answer, Ivar hesitated to reply. He glanced over at Cathbad, but found that the druid was looking at him with the same questioning gaze as the king. Sighing, he finally answered.

“Temra. He went to Temra to get Queen Maeve’s rune stone, because it’s the only thing Fin Varra knew would work.”

“Have you lost your mind?” King Conchobar asked incredulously. “I understand that Angus’ guilty conscience is making him reckless and willing to take any risk at the moment, but I’d thought that you would know better than this, Ivar. What should keep Maeve from simply forcing Angus under her control again? After everything that happened you might just have allowed her most valuable soldier to return to her, making all of our efforts, all of Rohan’s efforts, obsolete.”

Ivar was effectively stunned into silence by this. He had been sure that the element of surprise that Angus had on his side would be enough to get him safely back out of Temra, but the angry accusation of King Conchobar now made him fully realise what an enormous risk his friend was actually taking. To his surprise, however, Cathbad didn’t agree with the king.

“No, not necessarily, my Lord. The fact that Angus broke Maeve’s control over him on his own makes it highly possible that he is now immune to any future attempts of mind-control. And, while I agree that it was indeed a great risk Angus took by returning to Temra, his unique position also makes him the only one able to retrieve Maeve’s rune stone in what little time Rohan has left.”

Ivar glanced at the druid gratefully, relieved that he agreed with his decision to let Angus go.

“Everything we can do now is to trust that Angus will succeed with his plan and do our part and get Rohan to Tir Na Nog before dawn. We still have about an hour until the sun rises, but we should nevertheless start to prepare.” With that Cathbad turned around and left the throne room again via the wooden staircase, Ivar following behind, anxious to see for himself how Rohan was doing.

 

* * *

 

They had moved Rohan to lie on the floor, his head resting on a soft pillow, his injury carefully re-wrapped by Cathbad. Deirdre was right beside him, a warm blanket in her arms to protect the unconscious man from the cold air of the early morning, as soon as they arrived in the stone circle above Tir Na Nog.

Ivar hadn’t been able to tell them much about the exact procedure of the ritual Fin Varra would perform, except that it wouldn’t take place in Tir Na Nog itself, but within the magical fairy ring above, making it necessary to make sure Rohan wouldn’t be exposed to the elements for too long, given his weakened state.

Checking their preparations one last time, Cathbad looked around the room once more to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Rohan, Deirdre, Ivar and himself would be going and the druid was standing in the middle of the small group now, the teleportation scroll in hand.

The Mystic Knights of Air and Water both had their weapons with them, just in case, and kept glancing at Rohan repeatedly to check on his condition. He was still extremely pale and his breathing was shallow and barely noticeable, causing Deirdre to not leave his side even for a moment.

When Cathbad was sure they were sufficiently prepared, he unrolled the parchment and threw a glance at Deirdre and Ivar.

“Brace yourselves.”

Both royals nodded quickly in reply, signalling that they were ready, whereupon the druid started to read the spell from the scroll out loud.

The transportation really was instantaneous. There was a brief flash of light and when they could see again, the castle walls around them had vanished, making way for the massive trees of the forest and the impressive stones of the fairy ring.

For a moment everyone stood in silence as they took in their surroundings in the dim light just before dawn. Only a few stars were still faintly visible in the slowly brightening cloudless sky above them, and the leaves were rustling in a light breeze of cool morning air.

However, the quiet was broken when Fin Varra and several of his guards appeared beside them, startling the humans. The first thing the fairy king did was move his long cane around for a moment, causing orbs of light to form above some of the larger stones in the circle, illuminating the entire area.

Now that they could see better, Deirdre was the first to notice that Rohan wasn’t on the ground anymore, but instead was lying on top of the massive altar-like rock that served as the entrance to Tir Na Nog. Before she could say anything about that, though, the fairy king greeted them cheerfully.

“Ah, I’m glad to see that you have made it back so quickly, Ivar. And of course the Princess and Cathbad have joined you. I’m afraid Angus hasn’t returned yet, but there is still enough time until sunrise, so no need to worry.”

Fin Varra looked up at Rohan, who was still deeply unconscious, and a concerned expression flickered across his features, but the fairy king merely cleared his throat and continued, sounding as optimistic as before.

“As there seems to be nothing left to prepare for the ritual, I guess all we can do now is wait.”

Deirdre had stepped over to Rohan and was now gently laying the blanket she had brought on top of him to keep him warm, while making sure that he was resting as comfortably as possible on the hard surface. She was worn out by the constant fear for her friend’s life and barely listened as Cathbad approached Fin Varra now, still having a few questions.

“We are all very grateful for the help you and your people have offered in order to heal Rohan, but I’m still concerned about this ritual. Ivar said that it has never been performed with humans before and I’m worried what dangers this might imply.”

The fairy king nodded, finding his own fears mirrored by the druid.

“Yes, yes, it isn’t without risk, I’m afraid. But there is no other way I know of to save Rohan and Angus is aware of the risk he is taking. The role he played in causing Draganta’s condition won’t allow him to sit back, no matter what this means for his own safety.”

Cathbad sighed, knowing all too well how true this was. Angus had always been willing to sacrifice everything for Rohan and now that he had almost caused his death, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try everything in his power to save him. That was also the reason why Cathbad would not prevent him from taking part in the ritual, even if he had known for sure that it was dangerous.

It wasn’t because he valued Rohan’s life more than that of the former thief, but because he knew that Angus’ life would effectively be over the moment his best friend died from the injury caused by his hand.

As there was nothing else left to do, Cathbad, Ivar, Deirdre and Fin Varra waited in silence as the minutes crept past, all of them becoming increasingly tense as sunrise was approaching. Birds had begun singing a while ago and every sound in the woods made them turn their heads in anticipation of Angus’ arrival, but so far there was no sign of him.

“The sun’s going to come up any minute now, where is he?” Deirdre asked desperately, anger seeping into her voice.

“Trust me, he’s coming. He wouldn’t let Rohan down,” Ivar tried to reassure the princess, but to the young woman this statement was nothing more than a bad joke. Before she could tell this to Ivar, though, the sound of hooves thundering on the forest floor coming in their direction at a fast pace cut her short.

Angus had finally arrived and when he came into view, the strained expression on his face quickly made way for a small smile, although the exertion of the long ride was still clearly visible in his entire posture.

Ivar and Cathbad walked over to him as the dark haired man dismounted his horse, but Deirdre stayed where she was, right next to Rohan. From her position she could see Angus’ face as he got out of the saddle and she noticed him wince at the movement, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. No one else seemed to have picked up on the former thief’s reaction, though, and he appeared to be perfectly fine as he now talked to Cathbad and Ivar.

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a plain white crystal out of it which he then held up, a determined look in his eyes.

“I’ve got it. Now let’s do this.” He pushed past his friends and went right to Fin Varra to hand him the stone, not wasting any more time.

“What now? What do I have to do?”

Fin Varra gestured for him to keep the stone as he eyed the much taller man in front of him sceptically. Angus did his best to avoid the scrutinising gaze, but said nothing.

“Are you alright, Angus? You are looking quite pale,” the fairy king finally wondered, causing the others to look at the Mystic Knight of Earth more closely as well. Even Deirdre, who was still hovering over Rohan, had to admit that the former thief was paler than usual, but she ignored it and instead kept urging the others inwardly to finally start the ritual.

Angus was apparently thinking the same, as he quickly nodded his head.

“The ride was long and exhausting. I’ll probably sleep for a day when this is over, but other than that I’m fine.”

Fin Varra kept his eyes on the young man for a few more seconds, but before he could reply anything, Ivar stepped forward, clearly worried about his friend.

“I could do the ritual, too. As I understand it, it’s going to be quite the strain and if you’re not feeling well –” But Angus interrupted him immediately.

“No, I said I’m fine. I’ll do it; I _have_ to do it,” he announced resolutely, looking directly at Ivar.

The blue clad prince returned his gaze for a moment, before he finally nodded in agreement. He understood Angus’ determination and knew that there was no way his friend would let him take his place in this.

“Alright,” King Fin Varra concluded in a loud tone, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “I guess you wouldn’t tell us if there was something wrong, anyway. Let us proceed then. We’re going to need some of your blood, Angus.”

The former thief raised an eyebrow in surprise, but it was Cathbad who spoke first, his voice uncharacteristically sharp.

“Why do you need that? I would never have thought that the Little People would practice or even condone blood magic, King Fin Varra.”

The fairy king shook his head in reply, and hurried to respond to the druid’s insinuation.

“No, no, no, this isn’t blood magic. Blood magic is crude, violent, this is just… a _symbol_ that helps to form the connection. We’ll need a drop each from Angus and Rohan, nothing more.”

Not really sure what this exchange was all about, Ivar and Angus looked from Fin Varra to Cathbad and back again, before focusing once more on the task at hand. Ivar pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to his friend, who took it immediately and pricked the tip of one of his fingers with it.

“Now what?” he asked the king of the Little People.

“Put one drop on the rune stone, then do the same with Rohan’s blood.”

Angus quickly dropped his own blood on the crystal in his hand, but he couldn’t move towards Rohan, not with the knife in his hand. His eyes were now fixated on the unconscious blond man and he found that he was rooted to the spot.

“Let me.” Sensing the dilemma of his friend, Ivar took the knife out of Angus’ hand again and approached Rohan. Deirdre, who was still next to him, held up one of Rohan’s hands and watched as Ivar drew a little blood from it. Now Angus came over as well, the rune stone still in his hand, but he carefully avoided looking at the princess. He couldn’t possibly face her again before this was over; before he had made sure Rohan lived.

When the preparation of the rune stone was complete, Angus turned his head back towards Fin Varra, but didn’t even have to ask what to do next.

“Put the stone on Rohan’s chest and then everyone except Angus has to leave the circle.”

They followed the instructions, but just as Deirdre and Ivar were about to step out of the fairy ring, Angus held the foreign prince back for another moment. His voice was very quiet when he spoke so only Ivar could hear him.

“If this goes wrong,” Angus raised a hand to keep the other man from interrupting as he noticed his worried expression. “I don’t think it will, but just in case, I want you to take a look in my saddle bag. I took one more little parting gift from Maeve,” he added with a smirk, earning himself a look of confusion from Ivar.

Before the prince could ask anything else, however, he had to leave the circle and soon Angus found himself standing next to Rohan alone. He looked into his friend’s pale face once more, praying inwardly that the ritual would work, that all of this wouldn’t turn out to have been futile.

“You might want to sit down, Angus. It is time.”

The former thief looked up again and even through the thick forest he could now see the first rays of sunlight shining over the horizon. He sat down on the earth, his back resting against the stone Rohan was lying on; tense, but as ready as he would ever be.

“Here we go,” he muttered to himself and nodded shortly to the others, who were watching him with concerned expressions from right outside the fairy ring.

Fin Varra raised his staff and pointed it at the two men in front of him, reciting verses in a language none of the humans could understand, not even Cathbad. The sun that was shining through the trees gave both Angus and Rohan an almost glowing appearance, but as the glow slowly intensified, Deirdre noticed that it wasn’t the light coming from the rising sun, but rather from the two men themselves.

Angus had closed his eyes and the princess noticed that his expression was strained, his breathing laboured, but she paid little attention to it and instead focused on Rohan, trying to see if his condition was improving at all.

The glowing aura was now covering the entire centre of the stone circle, moving and swirling, its intensity increased by the rays of sunlight shining through the forest. This impressive display went on for several minutes, accompanied by Fin Varra’s voice, but when the fairy king stopped his chanting, the glow vanished in an instant, leaving no sign that anything out of the ordinary had just transpired.

Nobody moved for a moment, all of them too overwhelmed by what they had just witnessed, but when Deirdre saw Rohan’s hand twitch slightly, there was no stopping her. The princess rushed forward and was next to the blond man in a heartbeat, on the opposite side of the stone altar from where Angus was still sitting, and took his hand in hers gently.

“Rohan? Rohan can you hear me?” she asked, hope shining in her eyes, but still with a small trace of fear in her voice. There was no answer at first and while Deirdre kept staring at Rohan, Ivar had arrived in the centre of the stone circle, too, but he crouched down next to Angus, worry clearly evident in his expression.

“Angus, are you alright?” He laid a hand on the sitting man’s shoulder and to his great relief, Angus’ eyes snapped open at the touch. He stared up at his friend, obviously still shaken from the ritual.

“Did it work?” His voice sounded forced, his eyes pleading to know if Rohan was alright.

Looking up at the leader of the Mystic Knights, Ivar noticed that Cathbad had now stepped next to him as well and was examining his former apprentice carefully.

“Cathbad, how is he? Did it work?”

It wasn’t the druid who answered this question, though, but Deirdre.

She was still holding Rohan’s hand and yelped in surprise as his grip suddenly became firm. In the next moment, the blond man’s eyes opened and he looked up at the princess, visibly confused about what was going on.

“Rohan, you’re back.” Deirdre’s voice was choked-up with tears, but they were tears of joy, and the smile on her face was the brightest she had worn in a very long time.

Infected by Deirdre’s happiness, Ivar practically beamed as he looked back down at Angus, relief washing through him. His grip on his friend’s shoulder tightened reassuringly as he conveyed the great news.

“Rohan’s awake again. You did it, Angus!” However, the smile died quickly on his lips as there was no response. Ivar shook the sitting man slightly, but nothing happened, except from his head dropping forward a little.

“Angus? Cathbad, quick, he’s not answering anymore.”

The druid rushed over to them and examined Angus, his brow creased with worry, but was relieved to find that the young man was still alive and merely unconscious. For a moment he had been afraid that the former thief had actually traded his own life for Rohan’s, as he had been prepared to do.

Cathbad turned to Fin Varra for help, wanting to know if this was a common side effect of the ritual, but only learned that among the Little People it wasn’t. As this was still the first time it was performed with humans, however, they had no way of knowing if the reaction was normal or if something had gone horribly wrong.

Only time would tell.

 

**To be continued…**


	22. …and wait

He vaguely remembered being in pain, but that was gone now, his body numb and only slowly regaining a sense of his surroundings. There were sounds around him, voices, birds singing, the rustling of leaves. Was he outside?

"Rohan? Rohan can you hear me?" a muffled voice somewhere above him asked, but it was like he was still in a dream, trying to fight his way back into reality.

More voices, too quiet to understand, but as his senses continued to come back to him, the very first thing he noticed was the feeling of a delicate hand holding his tightly. Deirdre.

Rohan fastened his hold on the princess’ hand and his eyes opened instantly, staring up into her ocean blue ones.

“Rohan, you’re back.”

He could see that the young woman had tears in her eyes, but her face was lit up with a bright smile and Rohan’s heart sped up at the sight of her happiness. He still had no idea where he was or why he had been unconscious in the first place, but knowing that Deirdre was with him already had a calming and reassuring effect on him. He wanted to say something, but found his throat too dry to speak, and before he could make so much as a sound, Ivar’s voice somewhere beside him made him halt.

“Rohan’s awake again. You did it, Angus!”

Rohan was surprised to hear Ivar’s voice next to him and even more surprised to hear him say their former friend’s name. Angus! What was he doing here, and where exactly was ‘here’, anyway?

Before he could find out, however, the foreign prince continued, and Rohan noticed immediately how the cheerfulness vanished from his voice and was replaced by fear and concern instead.

“Angus? Cathbad, quick, he’s not answering anymore.”

Still feeling weak and disoriented, Rohan paid little attention as the druid rushed past him and crouched down next to Ivar, both of them now looking down with equally worried expressions. As he glanced over to them, the leader of the Mystic Knights noticed a few strands of raven black hair out of the corner of his eye and instantly knew that it was indeed his former best friend the two were staring at.

The man he had fought against, right before…

As the memories of his last minutes awake came back to Rohan, his free hand flew to the bandage around his stomach, but even though he clearly remembered the pain of being stabbed, there wasn’t more than a slight prick left now.

In an effort to figure out what was going on, Rohan now took a closer look at his surroundings and the first thing he became aware of was that he was in, or rather above, Tir Na Nog, the fairy ring being an unmistakable landmark. He had no idea why the others would have brought him here, or why Cathbad and Angus were present as well. He did, however, have the strong inclination that the former thief was somehow responsible for this unforeseen turn of events, as he had always had the tendency to find himself right in the centre of trouble.

With his strength slowly returning, Rohan pushed himself into an upright position, but without letting go of Deirdre’s hand in the process. He looked down at the men next to him on the ground, still confused by the situation.

“What happened? What is Angus doing here?” Focusing back on Deirdre, he added, “The last thing I remember is how we fought after he tried to… to murder you.” Without really thinking about it, Rohan entwined his fingers with Deirdre’s and intensified the hold on her hand, as if wanting to reassure himself that the young woman was indeed alive and unharmed.

The princess was battling with her emotions as she moved closer to Rohan and pulled the blond man into a fierce embrace with her free arm, all the while not letting go of his hand. All the panic and fear that had built up inside of her and that had made her almost indifferent to the rest of the world, finally vanished and endless relief washed over her as she enjoyed the closeness between them. She had come so close to losing him; too close…

“He saved your life,” she mumbled into Rohan’s neck, her words barely audible.

“What?” The Mystic Knight of Fire pulled back a little, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

Slightly flustered by her emotional behaviour, Deirdre now let go of Rohan’s hand and wiped the tears from her eyes as she tried to straighten herself.

“Angus broke free from Maeve’s spell when he saw you hurt; when he saw what he had done. We… we almost lost you, Rohan, but the ritual worked,” she finished with a heartfelt smile and, looking over to Angus and Ivar, she asked quietly, “How is he?”

The blue clad prince glanced up at her and then looked over to Cathbad, who had gone to the side of the fairy ring to talk to Fin Varra, without the rest of them even noticing.

“I’m not sure. Cathbad says that it appears as if he’s only sleeping, but maybe King Fin Varra knows something more.”

With Deirdre’s help, Rohan finally got off the stone he had been lying on and back on his feet. He still felt a little light-headed, although he didn’t let that stop him from quickly moving to Angus’ side and kneeling down beside his unconscious friend to take a closer look at him. The dark haired man was even paler than usual and his completely uncharacteristic stillness sent a shiver down Rohan’s spine. If he didn’t have Ivar’s word that Angus was still with them, he would certainly have believed him dead.

“And you’re sure he’s really himself again?” the Mystic Knight of Fire asked, a mixture of hope and sadness lacing his voice. A small part of him was afraid that he had somehow misunderstood Deirdre and even if what she had said was true, deep down he would only be able to believe it once he could look into Angus’ eyes and talk to him again; see for himself if his best friend was indeed back.

“Yes,” Ivar simply replied. He knew how upsetting this moment had to be for Rohan, that after all this time of trying to break Maeve’s control over him, he couldn’t have the reunion with Angus he had been hoping for, but instead even had to fear for his life.

“What exactly happened? What is this ritual Deirdre mentioned?” Rohan wondered, sick of feeling left out of the loop. He looked at the two royals in turn until the princess finally began a quick explanation, starting with what had happened after Rohan had been wounded. Ivar took over after a while and told the leader of the Mystic Knights everything he knew about the ritual they had just witnessed and Angus’ part in it, finishing just as Cathbad returned to the group.

The old druid seemed worn and exhausted, but a smile appeared on his face nevertheless as his eyes fell on Rohan.

“It is a great relief to see you fully recovered, Rohan, but I have to admit that I’m not surprised it was Angus’ stubbornness that brought you back to us.” His eyes shifted over to the still unconscious Mystic Knight of Earth and his smile faded again slightly.

Noticing the shift, Rohan had to know the truth.

“How is he? What did Fin Varra say?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. As far as I can tell, Angus is merely sleeping, albeit very deeply, and as there is nothing known about the effects of the link ritual on humans, King Fin Varra couldn’t provide any further information, either. Apparently this isn’t a normal reaction for the Little People, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.”

The druid let his eyes wander over Angus’ eerily peaceful features once more, realising that there was nothing more they could do for him here in Tir Na Nog. It was time to return home.

“We have to get Angus back to Kells, make him as comfortable as possible and give him the chance to recover on his own. He is a strong young man, I have little doubt that he’ll be with us again soon, causing only his usual amounts of trouble.”

His last statement got a small laugh from the Mystic Knights. As the entire group got back to their feet, it was Deirdre, who spoke next.

“It’s going to be a long walk back, though. Angus is the only one who came here on a horse, after all.”

At this point Fin Varra’s voice rang across the clearing in reply, interrupting any further plans.

“There’s no need to worry about that, I can send you all back to Kells the way you came. When he wakes up, please tell Angus to keep all life-or-death emergencies to a minimum from now on, will you? But before I forget, I would also like to have a word in private with one of you, if you don’t mind.” As soon as he had said these words, the fairy king raised his magic staff without waiting for a reply from the assembled humans. The spell worked instantly and the group disappeared, but with one exception.

When the others had vanished, Ivar was the one who stayed behind, giving Fin Varra a surprised look. He had no idea why the fairy king would want to talk to him at all or why it had to be a private conversation. Before he could voice his confusion, though, the king held up a hand, effectively silencing him.

“I believe Angus told you what to do in case something happened to him during the ritual, or did he not?” the ruler of the Little People asked matter-of-factly. The foreign prince felt slightly puzzled for a moment, but when he remembered his friend’s mysterious words prior to the ritual, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was ever any point in trying to keep a secret from Fin Varra at all.

“I had almost forgotten about that, but yes, he did.” Ivar glanced back at the fairy king for a second, unsure what his interest in all this might be, before he headed over to Angus’ horse, which was still tied to a tree not far from the stone circle.  He opened the saddle bag, but the moment his eyes fell on its content, his hand froze in mid-air just as he was about to reach inside.

The chalice. The sacred chalice of his kingdom, the one he had spent all this time searching for, was lying directly in front of him now, leaving the prince breathless for a moment. When he finally did reach out and take it, he was almost afraid it would vanish under his touch, causing him to take a deep breath in relief when it didn’t.

The bright rays of the morning sun hit the chalice as Ivar pulled it out of its dark confinement and the silver surface and the valuable gems embedded in it sparkled in all their glory. It was a sight reminding him of the celebrations in his homeland, when the kingdom’s biggest treasure had been displayed for the people to marvel at.

 “This is indeed a very dark day for Queen Maeve, I dare say,” Fin Varra announced cheerfully, pulling Ivar out of his stupor, “not only did she lose Angus and her rune stone, but even the chalice that allows Mider to access his dark realm. Without this, he can no longer support her efforts to take over Kells.”

Ivar’s gaze was still captured by the chalice in his hand, but after a few moments his mind wandered back to the last time he had managed to get it away from Maeve.

“I want nothing more than to return this home to my kingdom, but how can I do that, knowing what the chalice is capable of? Mider might still be in his realm right now and the moment he chooses to leave we will have to deal with him again,” he pointed out, feeling desperate as he tried to find a way to both fulfil his mission, but also not endanger Kells and his friends any further.

“Not if I can prevent it,” Fin Varra replied in a confident tone, receiving a surprised look from Ivar. “I can us my magic to seal the chalice, making it impossible for Mider to ever use it as a portal again. And if he is indeed in his dark realm at the moment, that also means he will be trapped there from now on,” the fairy king finished with a triumphant grin on his face, now that he had found a way to finally get rid of his old nemesis.

“Really? You can do that?”

“Certainly. Just put the chalice down for a moment.”

Ivar followed the instruction and put the vessel on the ground in front of Fin Varra, who touched it with his cane, muttering a few words simultaneously.

A small sparkle flickered across the surface of the chalice, but vanished again quickly without leaving any visible marks behind. Once the enchantment had been cast, the king motioned for Ivar to retake his possession.

“You’re sure it’s safe now?”

“Absolutely, yes. I would still advise you to keep it safe and return it to your homeland quickly, but there is no danger of Mider appearing out of it ever again.”

“Thank you, King Fin Varra. You have no idea how much this means to me and to my people,” Ivar declared solemnly, the burden of the mission he had been carrying for so long suddenly feeling a lot lighter. The ruler of the Little People answered in a sympathetic tone.

“Believe me, this is a reason for celebration for my kingdom as well. Mider has been a threat to Tir Na Nog for so long, it will be a relief to live without his constant threat for a while.”

“For a while? But didn’t you say he would be trapped?”

“Yes, yes, but only until he finds another portal, which I have no doubt he will. It could take him years, however, so I am counting this as a victory, even if it is only a temporary one.”

Ivar nodded in agreement and moved back to the horse to store the chalice inside the saddle bag once more. As soon as he had untied the reins, he was about to mount his ride, but Fin Varra stopped him, his magic staff raised.

“I believe the poor animal has gone far enough for today. Just don’t think that this is going to turn into a habit,” he announced with a reprimanding smile, before casting another spell and sending Ivar and the horse back into the courtyard of Kells Castle, sparing them the long ride home.

 

* * *

 

After the chalice was safely contained within Cathbad’s magic box for the time being, all the Mystic Knights had gathered in the guest room in which not long ago Rohan had been accommodated during his treatment. Once again they were forced to sit back and wait while the life of one of their friends hung in the balance. Even though the druid had been rather optimistic in his prediction, they wouldn’t know for sure if Angus would be alright until he woke up, and so far there had been no indication that that would be any time soon.

The truth was that although Cathbad had assured them that Angus was merely sleeping, his appearance actually suggested a worse condition. His skin was still unnaturally pale, making the cut across his cheek he had acquired in the battle yesterday seem even deeper, and there was an entire collection of colourful bruises forming on his chest.

When two of the castle’s maids had finally removed Angus’ Temra clothes earlier, they had revealed the painful looking souvenirs of his encounter with Deirdre’s new weapon, causing the princess to remain noticeably subdued for the rest of her visit.

Rohan ran a hand across his face as he kept looking at Angus, searching for any sign that his condition was improving. He knew that both Fin Varra and Cathbad had demanded them to be patient and give the former thief the time he needed to recover, but the Mystic Knight of Fire could hardly wait for him to wake up and to finally be able to put the past weeks behind them.

He was missing his friend terribly, their banter, their arguments, even Angus’ hotheadedness, but most of all the way that the former thief had always seemed to be the natural balance to his own seriousness. In those moments when Rohan’s brooding thoughts were threatening to drag him down with their weight Angus had always been there, distracting him and reminding him to keep living in the here and now.

They balanced each other, each of them keeping the other one grounded, and that was exactly why they had become friends so easily, despite their completely different personalities.

Sighing loudly, Rohan attracted the attention of both Ivar and Deirdre, who had been lost in their own thoughts as well. Ivar was sitting in the chair on the other side of Angus’ bed, while Deirdre stood several feet away from them, at the window overlooking the fields in the distance.

She now glanced over at her friends and Rohan could immediately tell that the young woman was feeling uncomfortable just by being here. He knew that in the light of everything that had transpired between her and Angus he shouldn’t be surprised, but he still hoped that there wasn’t going to be a rift between the two of them, as they were the most important people in his life and Rohan would never be able to pick either one’s side, even if he had to.

“There’s going to be a funeral later,” Deirdre suddenly announced, effectively shaking the blond man out of his thoughts. “For the soldiers who died in the battle,” she added, her eyes flickering over to Angus for a split second, but Rohan still caught it.

 _Ulric_ , he thought. The man he had watched Angus kill on the battlefield.

Swallowing hard, Rohan nodded, his expression genuinely sad.

“I’ll be there, of course. They were good men who died before their time. It’s terrible that we lost so many.”

“Yes, that just seems to keep happening lately, doesn’t it?” Deirdre asked in a constricted voice. She met Rohan’s eyes for a second, but then suddenly turned around and left the room in a hurry, leaving two completely baffled Mystic Knights behind.

Rohan had no idea what this had just been about, but in the end he decided that Deirdre was simply still shaken from the events of the last couple of days. He knew he was.

 

* * *

 

Aside from the Mystic Knights, King Conchobar and Cathbad, the entire court, many villagers and all the soldiers who hadn’t returned to their outposts yet after the battle had assembled outside of Kells Castle, facing the sun setting slowly in the west. On the area in front of them, a few dozen pyres had been set up and men holding torches were waiting for the king’s signal to set them ablaze.

A gloomy atmosphere lay over the crowd as they had gathered to pay their final respects to the soldiers who had lost their lives defending Kells. Both Deirdre and King Conchobar had already addressed the people and expressed their condolences to the relatives and now the final part of the funeral was about to begin.

At a small sign from the king, the guards with the torches began moving across the area, lighting up the pyres as they passed them.

Deirdre, who was standing between her father and Rohan watched in silence as the men who had died under her command were given their final send-off, the flames already beginning to lick at the sheets covering their lifeless bodies.

Her thoughts wandered back to the battle, to all the fighting and death around her, but the one image that was stuck in her mind was Ulric dying right in front of her, the way the life had faded from his eyes not letting her go. However, attached to this memory there was also another one that was still haunting her equally. Angus, right after he had dealt the fatal blow, the mercilessness in his entire expression and the way he had fixated her as he had come towards her, murderous intent in his eyes.

Just as her memories were about to overwhelm her, there was a soft touch on her hand and Deirdre looked down in surprise, only to find that Rohan’s fingers were gently brushing against hers. She glanced up to meet his eyes, thankful for the gesture and noticed a small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

The princess wanted nothing more than to take the blond man’s hand and let his strength support her, but they were standing too exposed right now for that kind of intimacy. All she could do was return the movement with the back of her hand, knowing that the bond between them was strong enough to convey her gratefulness even through such a small contact.

The rest of the funeral went by surprisingly fast, and even though Deirdre wasn’t looking forward to the following banquet, she knew that she would get through it with Rohan’s support by her side.

 

* * *

 

It was already very late in the evening, the funeral banquet had been over for hours, but Rohan had stayed in the castle to check on Angus and spend time with his friends, relieved that the ordeals of the past weeks were finally over.

Deirdre had already retire for the night a while ago and now Ivar, too, had gone off to bed. Rohan also felt tired, but despite the late hour he wanted to look in on Angus one last time before he returned to his village. He decided to take the shortcut through the supposedly empty throne room, but stopped when someone going in the opposite direction suddenly called his name.

 “Rohan.”

Deirdre’s voice startled the blond man, but the princess didn’t seem any less surprised to see him than he was. Rohan was about to return the greeting, but hesitated slightly when he noticed the young woman’s distraught appearance.

“Deirdre, are you alright? What happened, is Angus…?” Panic slipped into his voice, but Deirdre interrupted him immediately.

“No, no, Angus is fine. I just checked on him and his condition hasn’t changed. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about the funeral and everything kind of… came rushing back.” She wiped the unshed tears from her eyes and tried to smile at Rohan, but failed miserably, earning her a sympathetic look in return.

Hating to see Deirdre this distressed, Rohan approached her, but without really knowing what he could do to lift her spirits. He wanted to pull her into his arms and his mind briefly went back to the embrace they had shared this morning, but he still felt the rules of court separating them, especially here in the centre of the throne room.

So instead he simply stood there and laid a hand on her arm in a comforting gesture, his voice gentle as he tried to cheer the princess up.

“I know it isn’t easy to lose people under your command, but you can’t forget that yesterday’s battle was a victory for us. Maeve is all but beaten and those who lost their lives helped to make this possible. They died honourably by defending Kells and that’s how we have to remember them.”

Deirdre gave a faint nod in response, but when she looked up at Rohan there was something else shining in her eyes. An emotion besides sadness that he couldn’t quite identify.

“I know, but that’s not it.”

“Then what’s upsetting you?” the leader of the Mystic Knights asked, his concern for the young woman increasing.

The princess returned his gaze for a long moment before answering, her eyes never leaving Rohan’s.

“Today at the funeral, when I saw the burning pyres I remembered all those we had lost and I kept thinking how easily you could have been one of them.”

Her honesty had Rohan completely dumbfounded for a moment, but Deirdre continued before he had the chance to reply anything anyway, determined to finish her explanation before her courage left her.

“And I realised that I would never have been able to forgive myself for not doing this when I had the chance.”

“Doing wha—?” Rohan asked, but was cut off mid-sentence as the princess suddenly pulled the much taller man down to her and kissed him fiercely.

Not having expected this, the Mystic Knight of Fire was too startled to react at first. When Deirdre was about to pull away again, however, having misinterpreted his reaction, Rohan immediately held her back by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. He poured all his love and desire for the princess into the kiss as she moved to stand on tiptoes to accommodate for the height difference between them. As their lips separated again after a few moments, both Rohan and Deirdre gasped slightly for air, but they didn’t move apart. Instead they kept staring at each other in silence, completely lost for words.

Rohan couldn’t believe what had just happened. He had been dreaming of this, longing for this for years, but had never actually believed it would happen. Every nice word from the princess, every smile, every fleeting touch had always been the highlight of his days, but at the same time the closest he had dared to let their relationship become. Because no matter the circumstances, he was still a commoner and Deirdre was the princess of Kells; they were worlds apart and there was no use in denying it.

Feeling as if reality was catching up with them, Rohan slowly released Deirdre from his hold and stepped back, his gaze turned away from hers.

“You shouldn’t… _we_ shouldn’t have done that. You’re… you’re my princess. This isn’t right.” The blond man was having trouble concentrating, the sweet taste of Deirdre’s lips still lingering on his. He tried to get some more distance between them, but the young woman was having none of it and moved further towards him.

“But Rohan, you’re _you_. You’re not only a Mystic Knight, you’re Draganta. If there was ever someone born as a commoner who has proven himself worthy of courting a princess, it’s you! Please look at me.”

Following her request, Rohan looked back up into Deirdre’s stunning blue eyes and found his hesitation rapidly leaving him. He loved her, he always had, and if there was even the slightest chance that she was reciprocating his feelings, he was willing to fight any obstacles to be with her.

He reached out and softly laid a hand on Deirdre’s cheek, relishing her closeness as the young woman spoke again.

“We’re equals as friends and as knights. So why shouldn’t we be equals when it comes to love?”

Her words made Rohan’s heart skip a beat and before he really knew what he was doing, he had cupped Deirdre’s face in both of his palms and leaned down to kiss her once again. However, before their lips met, he stopped himself once more.

“Deirdre, you’re the only one I ever wanted to be with. I love you and if you’ll truly have me I promise you that nothing will ever separate us again.”

“Of course I’ll have you! I love you, too, Rohan.”

Overwhelmed with joy, Rohan closed the remaining distance between them and kissed Deirdre for the second time this night, savouring every second of it. The woman he loved and who loved him back was in his arms at last and as far as the Mystic Knight was concerned, this was nothing short of a miracle. One that he wasn’t going to let go to waste.

 

**To be continued…**


	23. Bruises

The first thing Angus noticed when he woke up from his dreamless sleep was how warm and comfortable he felt. There were several pillows under his head and a soft blanket covered his body, making his own bed in the hut he shared with Rohan seem harsh and cold in comparison.

Still half asleep, his eyes not even open yet, the thought made him draw a startled breath and sit up with a start. In turn, his chest flared up in pain at the sudden motion. Angus ignored it, however, the question of his whereabouts being the more pressing matter right now. The only time he had ever had such comfortable quarters had been in Temra, and for a moment the mere idea of being back there paralysed him with fear.

His eyes flew open now and Angus’ eyes darted across the room. Even though the windows were covered by heavy curtains, blocking out most of the sunlight, he could make out enough of his surroundings that it didn’t take long for him to realise that this room had to be inside the castle of Kells, not Temra.

Relief washed over the former thief and he relaxed once more, but as he took a deep breath, the pain in his chest intensified further. He had to clench his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. When Angus looked down now, he saw that a thick bandage had been wrapped around his ribs, most likely to keep him from straining his injury any further.

The dark haired man willed himself to breathe more evenly, and after several long agonising moments, the pain finally subsided. When he moved to sit on the side of the bed, he could even tell that the bandages were actually helping. He still felt incredibly weak, though, and it took a lot of effort to get up on his feet. After a few seconds Angus was finally standing and immediately started to look around the room more closely. He was starving and hoped that some food had been brought for him to find.

A small smile spread on his lips as he became aware of a bowl of fruit sitting on the table in the corner. He immediately headed towards it, but stopped in surprise once he noticed what was lying on the chair next to the table. It was a pile of clothes, but not just any clothes. By the looks of it, they were a perfect copy of the outfit he usually wore, the clothes that had most likely been destroyed in Temra.

Picking the first item from the top of the heap, Angus nodded absentmindedly, as he could now see without a doubt that the waistcoat did indeed look just the same as his old one.

With a frown on his face he put it back down and instead picked an apple from the bowl on the table, which he chewed greedily to fill his empty stomach. Two apples later, when his first hunger was satisfied, Angus sunk his teeth in a fourth, and then moved to get dressed – although not once putting his food down in the process.

It was surprisingly disconcerting to wear these clothes again, especially the shirt in the red of Kells, after he had been wearing the enemy’s colours for so long. When Angus now opened the curtains to let some more light into the room, he became aware of a the mirror was standing in the opposite corner and couldn’t stop himself from stepping in front of it.

It was an odd sight that appeared before him, familiar and strange at the same time.

The clothes were exactly like those he’d been so used to, a perfect copy of his trademark look, but to Angus they still felt off somehow. He continued to look himself over and his hand went up to his cheek as he now really saw the gash across it for the first time. It had been stitched up, but would still leave a scar; always there to remind him of the deeds he had done under Maeve’s command. Of the man he had slain…

Suddenly feeling sickened by his own reflection, Angus started to pull off the leather bracers from his arms again, finally having realised why he felt this odd wearing his usual clothes.

He simply wasn’t that man anymore; he wasn’t even sure if he was still a part of Kells after everything he had done. Before he could start removing the waistcoat, however, a movement behind him, reflected by the mirror, stopped him dead in his tracks.

The door of the room had been opened and somebody was now standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised as Angus was.

Rohan froze as he opened the door, having expected the same sight that had greeted him for the past two days. Instead of finding Angus still unconscious in bed, however, the Mystic Knight of Earth seemed to have just finished getting dressed, his leather bracers still lying on the chair beside him.

There was a long moment of silence as the two men stared at each other in the mirror, both lost for words.

Rohan had thought a lot about what he was going to say to Angus once he was awake again and they finally had the chance to talk to each other. Of course, now that the opportunity actually presented itself, his mind was utterly blank, leaving him speechless. It took Rohan a few seconds to compose himself enough to speak, but even the one word he managed to say sounded clumsy to him in the silence.

“Angus.”

The dark haired knight now finally turned around, he, too, feeling the awkwardness of the moment.

“Rohan,” he replied, just as overwhelmed as his friend, but then continued. “You can’t imagine how glad I am to see you alive. And unharmed, too.”

Looking down at himself, Rohan nodded absentmindedly.

“Yes, it’s like nothing ever happened. The others told me it was you who pulled off this miracle; with Fin Varra’s help, that is.”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it a miracle, but if it hadn’t been for me, you never would have needed one in the first place,” Angus objected, still feeling the guilt for his attack on Rohan weighing him down. His eyes were fixed on the ground now, the rug on the floor appearing to be the safest thing to look at in this moment.

A sad smile on his face, Rohan shook his head before walking towards his friend and pulling him into a hug as soon as he had crossed the distance between them. He then proceeded to hold him at arm’s length, making sure the former thief was listening to what he had to say.

“You are not to blame for what happened, Angus, so there is no use in dwelling on it. We’re both alive and well and you are back to your old self; that is all that matters to me. I have spent the past two days worrying if you would ever wake up, if I would ever be able to talk to you again, so now I just want to put these dark thoughts behind me.” Eying the half eaten apple cores on the table, he added,

“I was hoping you might be hungry. I will get the kitchen to make us a feast to celebrate your recovery.”

With a wide grin on his lips, he led Angus to the door, the shorter man following him without much resistance, given the fact that he actually was still extremely hungry. On their way out of the room he looked over to Rohan, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

 “I was really out for two days? Did I miss anything important?”

Rohan returned the look sheepishly, his smile now softer than before.

“Well, I guess you could say that,” he admitted before he started his explanation of what had happened between him and Deirdre while the two friends continued to make their way to the throne room.

 

* * *

 

The news that the Mystic Knight of Earth had finally woken up had spread fast inside the castle of Kells, and so it was notably before his usual time as Ivar entered the throne room for breakfast. A wide grin lit up his features as his eyes fell on the dark haired man sitting at the table.

“My friend, it is such a relief to see that you have recovered. We had all been very concerned,” the foreign prince announced as he first grabbed Angus’ arm in greeting and then pulled the other man closer into a short hug.

Angus returned his smile, but remained unusually quiet, not sure how to react to all the attention he was receiving.

“Thank you. I’m just glad that the ritual actually worked, as Fin Varra didn’t seem all that convinced that it would. I suppose you found the little souvenir I took from Temra?” he asked carefully, not entirely sure what reaction to expect As he saw the huge grin on Ivar’s face, however, he knew that the prince had indeed found the chalice he had stolen from Maeve.

“Yes. Yes I did and believe me when I say that I and my people will always be in your debt for this. At first I thought I was dreaming when I opened that saddle bag.” As he sat down at the table with both Angus and Rohan, Ivar continued to explain where the chalice was being kept now and what Fin Varra had told him about the consequences its loss would have for Mider and Maeve.

The mood in the throne room was as cheerful as it hadn’t been in weeks as the three Mystic Knights kept talking, quickly leaving the topic of the war for more personal matters.

The princess hadn’t arrived for breakfast yet and as he had already told Angus about the newest development between them, Rohan figured that he might as well tell Ivar now, while it was still just the three of them. The leader of the Mystic Knights cleared his throat as he looked across the table at Ivar, suddenly a little nervous as he prepared himself to reveal his relationship with Deirdre to the prince.

“Ivar, there is something that I wanted to tell you about, a secret that cannot leave this room, at least for now. But I want my friends to know and I hope you won’t mind that I didn’t tell you earlier; I just wanted Angus to be the first to hear the news, so I waited.” He stopped there, not knowing how to begin, but the Mystic Knight of Water spoke before Rohan could find the right words, cutting his efforts short.

“If you mean to tell me about you and Deirdre, I assure you, Rohan, that there is no more need for that,” Ivar replied with a knowing smile, throwing his friend completely off his track.

The blond man opened and closed his mouth for a moment, without making a sound, as he fought to regain his bearings.

“What? How… I mean… did Deirdre tell you?” he finally asked, desperate to know how their secret had been revealed, and worried at the same time about who else might already know.

“No, but I spend a lot of time around the two of you and contrary to what you might believe, I am not blind,” Ivar explained with a rather uncharacteristically teasing smile, but as he noticed the lingering expression of shock on Rohan’s face, he hurried to calm his friend. “But don’t worry, that doesn’t mean that everyone can see it. A lot of people know that you and the princess are close friends, but one has to have a very intimate perspective to realise how that relationship has changed in the past few days. I am sure not even the king has noticed anything yet.”

Relief washed over Rohan at these words, but Ivar quickly continued, a deep sigh starting off his next words.

“And I can promise you that no-one will hear anything about this from me, either, as I have, after much consideration, decided to leave Kells for a while.”

This immediately caught Rohan and Angus’ attention and both men stared in disbelief at their friend.

“What? But why, we need you in the fight against Maeve,” Rohan protested, a vague feeling of betrayal settling in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of their fellow Mystic Knight leaving them.

Angus watched Ivar for a moment, no less surprised by his announcement than Rohan, but much calmer in his reaction.

“The chalice. You need to return it home, right?”

The foreign prince met his eyes and nodded, glad that Angus understood his motivation.

“Yes. I will travel with haste and return to Kells as soon as I can, but I also have a duty to my own people. Now that the sacred chalice is back in my possession, I need to return it home to my kingdom. I have delayed my departure so far in order to wait for your recovery, Angus, but now it is time for me to leave.” Seeing Rohan’s still sceptical look, he continued.

“I know that Temra isn’t beaten yet, but I am certain that Maeve won’t be causing any trouble for Kells for a long time. Her rune stone is gone, as is her support from Mider. So it seems to me that this is the best time for me to leave.” He waited for a reply from Rohan, who still looked anything but happy about this news. After a few moments the leader of the Mystic Knights finally nodded and extended his hand to the prince.

“Well, you will be missed, my friend. You have become such an integral part of Kells that I sometimes forget that you have your own kingdom to think of as well.”

As he took the hand that was offered to him, Ivar visibly relaxed, relieved that he had his friends’ support.

“Thank you for understanding. Believe me, I did not make this decision lightly, but my duty as prince doesn’t leave me any other choice.” He looked around the table and took another piece of bread from the small basket standing in front of him.

“I guess this will be our last breakfast together for a while now. We should try to make the best of it.”

Rohan and Angus both agreed and helped themselves to something more to eat, as well, but the leader of the Mystic Knights soon found that he could not follow Ivar’s suggestion with one of them still missing. He stood up and gave his friends an apologetic look.

“Don’t worry, I will be right back. But this just doesn’t feel right if our group isn’t complete. I will go and see if the princess is awake yet.”

Rohan left the throne room in a hurry, leaving Angus and Ivar behind, still enjoying their food.

When the two knights were alone it was quiet for a while, as both of them were completely engrossed in their breakfast, but after a few minutes Ivar interrupted the silence with an unexpected proposition.

“You could come with me, you know?”

Angus looked up at the prince in surprise, not sure if he had understood him correctly. Seeing the other man’s confusion, Ivar continued to explain.

“I mean visit my homeland with me. Temra will surely not pose a threat for quite a while, and even if Maeve is stupid enough to attack without Mider’s support, Deirdre’s new weapon will put a quick stop to any of her plans.” He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully.

“You have a rough couple of weeks behind you and I fear that the time ahead of you might not be particularly easy, either. There will surely be those who blame you for your actions under Maeve’s control, even though you were as much a victim as them. Maybe putting some distance between you and Kells for a while will help heal the wounds on both sides and appease the riled up tempers.”

Angus remained silent for a moment as he thought about Ivar’s proposition and his reasoning. When he finally replied, there was a hint of regret in his voice.

“I would be lying if I denied that a part of me would actually love to go, but I’m afraid I have to say ‘no’, anyway. My place is here in Kells and I cannot run away from what I’ve done, no matter how much I might want to. This is my home. I know that I have caused many people here a lot of grief, but I guess I’ll have to face them if I want to keep living in this kingdom.”

“Alright, I see your point. I guess it is a wise decision to stay, after all,” Ivar agreed with a small nod of his head.

A crooked smile appeared on Angus’ lips at this statement.

“Well, I don’t know about ‘wise’. I simply fear that if I don’t do this now, but instead leave with you, I might never be brave enough to return to Kells again. And I don’t want to risk that.”

Ivar didn’t answer immediately and instead just kept looking at Angus, wondering if this sudden insight was a lingering effect of either Maeve’s spell or Fin Varra’s ritual, or if his ordeals had simply caused the former thief to become more level-headed. Whatever the reason behind it was, the prince was already curious if this change would go away in time, or if his friend would still be like this when he returned.

Finally, Ivar grabbed Angus’ shoulder in a reassuring manner as he spoke.

“Just try not to worry too much about other people’s reactions. Your friends are always on your side and if some of the people of Kells need a little longer to come back to their senses, that shouldn’t concern you too much.”

Angus nodded in gratitude for the support and then tried to stir the conversation back to a less heavy topic by asking Ivar to tell him more about his homeland.

 

* * *

 

Rohan made sure that the corridor was empty before lightly knocking on Deirdre’s chamber door. It was only a moment before the door opened and to Rohan’s delight it wasn’t one of her maids greeting him, but rather the princess herself, a mixture of surprise and joy on her face.

“Rohan, what are you doing here this early? I just got dressed.” After first checking the corridor for anyone watching them, Deirdre opened the door a little wider to give Rohan access to her room. He quickly stepped inside, trying his best not to remember the last time he had been in here, especially in light of the news he had come here to deliver.

“Angus woke up.” He came straight to the point and watched as a mixture of emotions passed over the princess’ face before she ultimately smiled in relief.

“I’m glad he did. I couldn’t bear seeing you as distraught as you have been these past few days. Or make that ‘weeks’, really,” she added as an afterthought. “I’m not sure if things will ever be able to get back to normal, but at least it’s a start. Kells just wouldn’t be the same without Angus around,” Deirdre finished, her words genuine.

Rohan nodded in agreement, a soft smile lighting up his features. He soon became serious again, however, as he remembered that this wasn’t the only news he had brought.

“That’s not everything, I’m afraid. We’re having breakfast in the throne room with Ivar and he just told us that he’s going to leave Kells in order to return the chalice to his kingdom. He will be gone for weeks.”

This bit of information didn’t seem to affect the princess much, though, as she simply nodded and agreed in a calm tone.

“It is extremely important to his people. I’m sure he delayed this as much as he could.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Rohan asked after a moment’s hesitation, suspicious of Deirdre’s behaviour. The young woman sighed, not wanting to lie, but fearing the blond man’s reaction.

“Well, yes I did. Ivar told me right after Cathbad had locked the chalice away, but we both figured that you had enough worries on your mind as it was and you really didn’t need anything else to be concerned about.” Deirdre searched Rohan’s face for a response, but couldn’t quite tell what he thought of her actions.

“Please, don’t be angry. We didn’t want to keep you out of the loop, but telling you wouldn’t have changed anything and that way you could remain focused on Angus.”

Rohan ran a hand through his hair as he thought about Deirdre hiding this information from him, but he soon calmed down as he saw her concerned expression. He stepped in front of the young woman, his hands stroking gently across her arms.

“No, I’m not angry. I understand why you did it, and maybe it really was for the best, but I don’t want us to keep secrets from each other. Not even if it’s to protect the other.”

“Alright, agreed,” Deirdre nodded, a smile forming on her lips as she looked up at Rohan. She was still getting used to the idea that they were together now, but every time she thought about it, an almost absurd amount of happiness spread inside of her, causing her to grin like a silly girl of the sort she had always tried to avoid to turn into.

Rohan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he now leaned down to the princess and kissed her, a sense of longing palpable in the kiss that was based in their decision to keep their relationship a secret from almost everyone, at least for a while.

Deirdre responded by wrapping her arms around Rohan’s neck, drawing the taller man closer to her. She always tried to memorise every second they spent together like this, holding onto it during the rest of the day when they weren’t alone and had to pretend that they were still nothing more than good friends.

The princess had not a single doubt in her mind that Rohan was the man she wanted to spend her life with, and that he would make a very good husband and king, but for now they had agreed not to tell anyone except Angus and Ivar, fearing the possibility that King Conchobar might disagree with his daughter’s choice.

Despite all that, however, it was only a matter of time until Rohan would ask him for Deirdre’s hand in marriage.

 

* * *

 

As Rohan and Deirdre entered the throne room, the conversation at the table fell silent the moment Angus became aware of the princess. Both he and Ivar stood up from their seats as she stepped closer, the former thief feeling visibly uncomfortable in her presence.

His mind rushed back to the last time they had spoken, before he had gone to find a cure for Rohan. Deirdre’s parting words still echoed in his memories, cold and painful. _"If Rohan dies… you do not need to come back to Kells. There will be no place for you here anymore."_

Angus had kept his promise, he had saved Rohan’s life, but after all of his attacks on the princess, and ultimately the attempt on her life, he still felt terrible having to face her.

“I’m sorry—” he started, but Deirdre cut him off right away.

“No, I am, for what I said to you before. You did everything you could, you saved Rohan by risking your own life and I had no right to talk to you like that. I was just scared out of my mind by the thought of losing him,” she explained as she looked up at the blond man standing next to her. They had gotten another chance, thanks to Angus, and even though the princess knew that they couldn’t just pretend as if nothing bad had happened between them, she still valued the former thief’s friendship too much to simply turn away from him.

“You had every right to say it; I’m just glad it didn’t come to that,” Angus replied, his words heartfelt.

“As am I.” Deirdre smiled and, straightening herself, stepped in front of Angus to embrace him. “Welcome home.”

Rohan and Ivar exchanged a confused glance during this conversation, neither of them having any idea what their friends were talking about. Once they realised that they apparently wouldn’t receive an answer to that question, either, they simply chose to enjoy the moment, seeing their group finally reunited.

Rohan’s hand was resting on the small of Deirdre’s back as he looked into the faces of his friends and his beloved, trying to secure this moment in his memory.

“It’s been far too long since we have all been together like this; and it will be far too long until we will be again. If these last weeks have taught me anything, it’s that life is full of unforeseen turns of events. And much too short. We should never forget to value the moments we have, and the people we get to share them with.” Rohan’s eyes were locked with Deirdre’s as he finished his speech.

Ivar nodded in agreement and quickly proceeded to equip all four of them with cups filled with nectar from the table. He then raised his, looking at each of his friends in turn.

“To friendship!” the blue clad prince announced, Rohan, Angus and Deirdre following his movement.

“To friendship!”

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to the four Mystic Knights in the throne room, Cathbad was standing at the small window in his chamber leading right to them. His usually serious face was lit up with a bright smile as he watched the group below, a sight he hadn’t even realised he had been missing until now.

Angus was up and about again, Rohan wasn’t showing any signs of negative effects from the ritual and the affectionate way in which he lately interacted with Princess Deirdre hadn’t escaped the druid’s watchful eyes, either.

Things were finally settling down again and seeing the four young heroes of the kingdom reunited was more than Cathbad had dared to hope for for a long time. Now he could only hope that this moment was an impression of things to come and not merely the calm before the storm.

 

* * *

 

With all the preparations for his journey finished quickly, Ivar didn’t want to waste any more time, but leave Kells right away. As they all wished to say their farewells to their friend and trusted ally, Rohan, Angus, Deirdre, King Conchobar and Cathbad had gathered in the courtyard, now watching as Ivar put the last of his belongings onto the horse that would take him to the coast. When the prince was done he turned around, ready to say goodbye, but doing so with a heavy heart.

He approached Conchobar first.

“My King, I must thank you again for supporting my decision to leave, even if only temporarily. The chalice is of invaluable importance to my kingdom and its people and I will always be in your debt for your help in retrieving it.”

“I assure you, Prince Ivar, the debt is just as much the other way around. You have fought bravely on countless occasions to defend Kells and we will await your return, even though for now the kingdom seems to be safe from Maeve. You have proven yourself to be a loyal friend and ally and you will always be welcomed in this kingdom as an honorary citizen of Kells.”

Ivar bowed to the king shortly, then turned to the druid next. Before he could say anything, though, the old man interrupted him.

“This is not farewell, merely goodbye, so may Dagda guide you on your journey to guarantee your quick return.”

“Thank you, Cathbad. I am sure that I will miss your wisdom greatly even though I will only be gone for a few weeks,” Ivar replied truthfully before he turned towards Deirdre next.            

“Princess, I already regret having to go without our inspiring conversations for the coming weeks.” With a glance in the direction of Rohan and Angus, he added, “Can you make sure that these two won’t get themselves into anymore trouble while I am gone?”

Deirdre smiled as she followed his line of sight and her eyes fell on Rohan. She would certainly keep a close eye on _him_ in the future.

“Knowing them, I can only promise that I’ll try,” she replied cheerfully, causing Ivar to let out a resounding laugh. Even King Conchobar and Cathbad couldn’t stop themselves from letting out soft chuckles.

“That will have to do then.” The foreign prince embraced Deirdre for a long moment, before shifting his attention to Angus.

“Thank you again for enabling me to fulfil my mission, Angus. My father, the king, will hear all about the brave Mystic Knight who returned our kingdom’s most important treasure. Be certain that this deed will not go unrewarded,” Ivar finished as he moved closer to pull Angus into a hug as well.

“I take it you haven’t changed your mind about my offer, right?” he asked quietly as they moved apart, causing Rohan, who stood close enough to hear him, to slightly raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“I haven’t. The answer is still ‘no’. Just make sure you’ll be back quickly; the Mystic Knights aren’t complete without you.”

“I will. And you, Rohan,” Ivar continued as he turned to the group’s leader, “you will watch out for them, won’t you?”

“You can count on that,” the blond man replied while shaking the prince’s hand, before proceeding to embrace him tightly. “May the gods grand you a safe journey, my friend.”

“And may they watch over you as well,” Ivar replied, nodding to them all once more, before climbing onto his horse and riding out of the castle.

The three remaining Mystic Knights exchanged a quick glance, and without saying even a single word suddenly started to run to the nearby stairs and up onto the western wall of the castle, from where they could see Ivar getting further and further away from them. As they watched the prince vanish into the distance, they couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before they would see their friend again.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly sunset as Rohan walked through the castle, looking for any of his friends, and he found himself entering the corridor where he had almost kissed Deirdre a few days ago. Sure enough, the princess was standing at the same window as the last time, looking outside, deep in thought.

Rohan stepped behind her and gently slipped his arms around her small frame, pulling her closer.

“I think he has been standing there for hours now,” Deirdre said quietly, for a moment confusing the man holding her. However, when he followed her line of sight, he could see Angus, still standing on top of the wall where he had stayed after Ivar had left.

Rohan remained silent for a few seconds, just watching his friend, but when he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with concern.

“He was very quiet today, that’s not like him. Do you think there might still be some lingering effects from the ritual? Maybe he isn’t completely recovered yet.”

Deirdre had her own theory about Angus’ condition, but she didn’t want to add to Rohan’s worries and so she said nothing, glad that he couldn’t see her face right now. Although the blond man didn’t even seem to register her silence as he continued.

“We should really go down there and talk to him. Angus was unconscious for two days; he shouldn’t strain himself any further.” With that Rohan let go of the princess and headed towards the courtyard of the castle, Deirdre right behind him, even though she didn’t quite agree with his reasoning.

As they stepped outside, the Mystic Knight of Fire stopped abruptly and looked over to the smaller woman.

“Maybe I should talk to Angus alone. Convince him to go and get some rest. No wonder he’s so quiet if he’s still not feeling well.” At this Rohan turned around, ready to approach his friend, but Deirdre’s hand on his arm held him back once more.

“Rohan, wait!”

“What?”

Deirdre opened her mouth to answer Rohan, but met with his surprised gaze, she didn’t quite know how to phrase her objection. Instead she averted her eyes for a moment, her focus shifting to the dark haired man still up on the wall. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she finally began to explain herself.

“I just think that what Angus needs now isn’t rest; it’s time.”

“What do you mean?” Rohan replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I… I just honestly don’t believe it will be as simple as getting a good night’s sleep. Everything that Angus did and… what was done to him; that just has to have left a mark on him,” the princess pointed out, trying to make Rohan accept the inevitable changes in his best friend.

“I am afraid the princess is right, Rohan,” Cathbad suddenly chimed in, his voice coming from the doorway that lead inside the castle. The druid had stepped out into the courtyard without the two Mystic Knights noticing, and was now meeting their surprised looks with a thoughtful expression. As he approached them further, his gaze travelled upwards to settle on Angus, while a grim look darkened his features.

“All the damage Maeve did with her spell, those wounds will not just vanish. And even though Angus is free from her control now, I fear that he might never truly be himself again.”

Rohan and Deirdre followed the druid’s gaze and looked up at their friend as well as he was still standing on top of the western wall, letting the rays of the setting sun shine onto his face.

The Mystic Knight of Earth was taking deep calm breaths and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin and the peace, which had once more settled over the kingdom, hoping that one day he might be able to feel it inside himself again.

 

**The End**

(almost)


	24. Epilogue

The Kingdom of Temra had not been a particularly friendly place in decades, but ever since the lost battle against Kells’ forces and the theft of the queen’s most powerful artefacts, most of the land had been all but abandoned by the soldiers, allowing thieves and bandits to lay claim to the villages. Only the border to Kells, which had been relocated to its former position, and the royal castle were still heavily guarded. In fact, even more so than usual, to make sure that the kingdom was safe from its neighbouring enemies, even in this weakened state.

The castle itself was completely locked off, a small army stationed outside to protect it, granting not even Temra’s own citizens entrance. Many had already voiced their complaints, demanding that the soldiers resumed their patrols in the villages, but their queen would not hear them, having severed all connections to the outside world.

Instead, Queen Maeve remained inside the throne room of the castle where she was busy sifting through countless scrolls and parchments that were strewn across the table that had been moved into the centre of the floor. Dust-covered wooden crates full of books and baskets filled with ancient manuscripts were standing all across the room, waiting to be examined by the queen.

She wasn’t even sure what exactly she was searching for, just something – anything – that would help her against Kells and the Mystic Knights.

Without the rune stone and her sceptre Maeve was almost powerless, only a faint residue of the magic she had once been able to command still under her control. Without Mider’s help there was no hope of getting it back anytime soon, either. So the queen had started to look through the castle’s archive, searching every text for even the most obscure hints to a solution for her problem.

She would make them pay, she had to. Nobody could be allowed to defy the Queen of Temra like this and live to tell of it. This war wasn’t just about reclaiming her birthright anymore; it had turned into a personal battle between her and the Mystic Knights. One that she wasn’t prepared to lose, even though the odds had turned against her for now.

After her most recent setback, she also wasn’t the only one willing to do anything for her victory.

“My Queen, you should get some rest. You haven’t slept in days.” Torc’s voice came from the entrance of the throne room, but Maeve ignored him and continued to read the scroll she had been studying for a while now.

“I will rest when I have found a way to destroy Kells and those insolent knights. Not a moment earlier. Make yourself useful and bring me the rest of the documents from the basement archive. Or have you already forgotten that vow of revenge you made recently?” the queen asked, now lifting her eyes from the text in front of her to look at her general.

The older man had a grim expression on his face as he returned her gaze; or at least he had as far as Maeve could tell. The thick bandages covering the right side of his head weren’t making it very easy to read the general’s mood at the moment. The explosion of the ram skull sceptre, when Angus had attacked him with it, had caused a lot of damage to Torc’s face, even preventing him from wearing his trademark helmet for a while.

As he answered his queen, the general’s voice was filled with unconcealed hatred, his fists shaking in anticipation.

“No, I haven’t forgotten anything. Sooner or later we will be strong enough to take the war back to Kells and when we destroy the Mystic Knights, that thief will be mine. I’ll rip him apart and when I’m done with him, a missing eye will be the least of his concerns.” Absentmindedly, Torc moved his fingers across the bandage covering his face, just above the spot where his right eye used to be, before the magical explosion had damaged it beyond any chance of recovery.

Following Maeve’s request, the general grudgingly left the throne room and went down to the basement level of the castle and into the small archive located there. It held the most ancient and valuable writings in the castle, and the royal archivist had almost had a heart attack when he had heard of the queen’s orders to have all the scrolls and books from there moved into the throne room.

Most of the archive’s content had already been cleaned out and when the general entered, he had to look around for a second to find the last remaining scrolls he could bring to his queen.

A box filled with parchments was standing in the corner of the room in front of a small cabinet, apparently the only thing left in here. Just to be thorough, Torc also opened the cabinet and to his surprise he found a series of books that hadn’t been taken yet. He gathered them up, but as he was about to pull out the last one, the book couldn’t be removed from its spot. Instead, a soft clicking noise could be heard as it snapped back into position and a small hatch at the side of the cabinet opened.

Torc dropped the books he was holding unceremoniously and reached inside the hatch. A second later he pulled out an elongated wooden box, a casket, that bore the crest of the royal family of Temra.

 

* * *

 

“Where did you find this?” Maeve asked in surprise. Anything adorned with her family’s crest should have been handed to her once her father had died, not been kept away from her.

“It was hidden in an old cabinet down in the archive. I didn’t open it, of course, as it belongs to you, my Queen,” Torc explained as he bowed to Maeve.

“Yes. Yes it does,” the queen muttered absentmindedly and carefully opened the dark purple box. There was a single scroll inside, kept dry and safe within the carefully crafted casket.

“This is written in the old language, it will take time to fully translate it,” Maeve exclaimed exasperatedly as her eyes wandered over the ancient text. “But I think I understand a few of the words.” Her voice sounded more hopeful at this point, but she quickly fell silent again.

Torc stood beside his queen, not questioning or rushing her, but remained completely quiet as she tried to make any sense of the document in her hands. After a while, Maeve’s expression began to brighten up, her eyes finally leaving the ancient words and moving over to look at Torc.

“This is old magic, very old. I don’t understand much of it yet, but this scroll speaks of blood and strength gained through sacrifice. Apparently I have had at least one blood mage in my family and he or she was so kind to leave this behind for me. An instruction on how to take back my powers and vanquish all of my enemies.”

As she moved to find the books she needed to translate the ancient language, Maeve held the scroll in her hand tightly, not willing to let go of it again, now that she had finally found what she had been searching for so desperately. The blood magic would give her unimagined powers and a way to increase her strength with every enemy she defeated.

This time she would make sure that the Mystic Knights would pay for everything they had done; and they would pay with their blood.

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, to thank all the bands and artists who were so kind and lent me their song titles for my chapters, a complete list of them. They’re all very cool songs, though I have to admit that I chose most of them solely for the title and not for the actual content of the songs. But here they’re anyway:
> 
> 1\. Dire Straits – Brothers In Arms
> 
> 2\. UFO – Rock Bottom
> 
> 3\. Evanescence – Going Under
> 
> 4\. The Rolling Stones – Laugh, I Nearly Died
> 
> 5\. Linkin Park – Numb
> 
> 6\. Smashing Pumpkins – The End Is The Beginning Is The End
> 
> 7\. Evanescence – Haunted
> 
> 8\. Face to Face – The Devil You Know  
> Foreigner – Long Long Way From Home
> 
> 10\. Linkin Park – Minutes to Midnight
> 
> 11\. Ted Nugent – Stranglehold
> 
> 12\. Asia – Heat of the Moment
> 
> 13\. I Am Kloot – Avenue of Hope
> 
> 14\. The Windupdeads – Reverse of Shade
> 
> 15\. Ben E. King – Stand By Me
> 
> 16\. Phil Collins – Against All Odds
> 
> 17\. Hurts – Silver Lining
> 
> 18\. Creedence Clearwater Revival – Bad Moon Rising
> 
> 19\. Snow Patrol – Open your Eyes (Part 1)
> 
> 20\. Guano Apes – Open your Eyes (Part 2)
> 
> 21\. The Fray – How To Save A Life
> 
> 22\. Beatsteaks – …and wait
> 
> 23\. Unloco – Bruises


End file.
